


Things Never Happen the Same Way Twice

by SideStepping



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Character Death, F/M, OT4, Reincarnation, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:30:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SideStepping/pseuds/SideStepping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen and Arthur are in hiding whilst a magical war is being waged beyond the mountains. Gwen is tired, disturbed by dreams of faces and places she has no recollection of meeting or visiting and Arthur is determined to protect his people and venture beyond the mountains to fight in the war. </p><p>All is well until Arthur is captured by enemy forces and Gwen is left to find him whilst piecing together what her visions mean, and beginning to understand that this is not the first time she has lived this life. </p><p>Arthur is in his cell when Merlin appears to heal his wounds and explain what is happening. But Merlin has wandered the Earth for too many years and is withdrawn, still not certain that Arthur is his destiny. </p><p>With Morgana on her way, Merlin is determined to make a change this time around and not fail in his destiny.  </p><p>Of course, things never happen the same way twice …</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nusseis](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nusseis).



> Well, this fest has been a bit of a roller-coaster ride. I think at the start I said "well I've got plenty of time to write this so it should be finished well before due date" (crazed laughing ensues...)
> 
> My thanks to Nusseis, my incredible artist who put up with me and the fact I only seem to start writing when there's no time left! - Here amazing artwork is [here](http://nusseis.livejournal.com/4410.html) so go and tell her how brilliant it is!! :)  
> To J, my beta and friend who kept nudging me to write and get on with this fic!  
> To chosenfire for organising the fest - it's been great fun!
> 
> To the observant, the fic isn't actually finished, I've posted what I have and the rest will be along very soon - this was my only option really, I didn't want to rush the ending and so I left it in the only place that really worked!!
> 
> The title is from The Chronicles of Narnia and lyrics from the song 'Danny Boy' are used. The credit goes to the creators of both these amazing works. 
> 
> **Note:** There is one small scene of torture in the middle, it's not overly graphic or long, here is the warning in advance however.
> 
> There is a character death - fairly minor and non-graphic. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Merlin, all rights belong to the respective owners.

_**Autumn** _

They left Skaedel at nightfall and drove all the way through the night. Gwen sat in the back of the truck, half sitting, half lying, over the seats and watching the road before them as it dipped in and out of sight in the headlights of the truck. She pulled the blanket higher up over her and adjusted the cushions behind her head. The bumping and jerking of the truck on the uneven road meant sleeping, even for a moment, was impossible and so she lay there, watching the dark shapes of trees beyond the windows.

Arthur glanced back over his shoulder every once in a while, with an attempt at a reassuring smile, but he had to keep his eyes on the road and Gwen was left alone with her thoughts.

Arthur wouldn't forgive himself, she knew that. He'd never forgive himself for leaving Skaedel, for leaving the people there to their fate. But they'd had their orders, orders even Arthur couldn't refuse, and so they'd piled as many of their belongings into the truck as they could and left. The fires of a city at war, burning before their eyes. No, Arthur would never forgive himself. If there was one thing he couldn't take, it was letting innocent people die whilst he walked away.

Gwen shifted where she lay, awkwardly reaching down to touch the rough wool bandage over her leg. It had stopped bleeding, thankfully, but still hurt and was one of the reasons why Arthur has insisted she lie on the back seats. Another reason being she was harder to hit with a bullet than in the front.

As they had hastened away into the night, a bullet had sprung from nowhere. Gwen guessed it must have been meant for Arthur.

“We're nearly there, don't worry,” Arthur said quietly, almost inaudible over the noise of the engine. Gwen nodded to him in the rear-view mirror and braved a smile. She wasn't sure exactly where they were going – she hoped for a bed.

The truck's headlights caught on tall pine trees as they drove through the thick forest, heading gradually uphill on the narrow winding road. They hadn't passed any signs of civilisation for a long time and Gwen guessed they were being sent to a safe house, far away from any harm. But not far enough away from the memories.

She had in fact, dozed off slightly, when the truck came to an abrupt stop and Arthur stopped the engine.

“We're here,” he said quietly and Gwen nodded, pulling herself up in the seat and opening the door to get out. Arthur reached her door almost instantly however, and instead of making her walk, scooped her up into his arms and carried her across the ground.

He had left the truck headlights on and Gwen could see their destination. A small, single floor, wooden house, leaning against an old oak tree with a dilapidated wooden veranda out the front. The building was in darkness but looked oddly welcoming in a shabby, falling apart kind of way.

Arthur hopped up the steps to the door and Gwen turned the handle. It wasn't locked, and as they stepped inside, they entered near-complete darkness.

“Do you mind if I put you down a moment,” Arthur asked gently, “I need to find a light.”

“Sure,” Gwen replied and he lowered her onto her feet; helping her to lean against the doorframe instead of putting weight on her leg.

“There should be a torch or a lamp somewhere here,” Arthur muttered, mainly to himself as he knelt down beside the door, searching with his hands for what he wanted. Eventually he found the torch and switching it on, cast its light over the room.

It was all one big room besides an area partitioned off which Gwen presumed was the bathroom. A large oaken wooden bed stood in one corner, stripped of blankets and sheets; a large open fireplace faced it on the opposite wall and in the middle was a table and chairs. Besides other touches, like a large wooden cupboard, the house was pretty much bare, the wooden floors dusty and without rugs.

Gwen felt suddenly cold.

“Well at least it had a bed,” Arthur sighed. Gwen reached out to take his hand but he'd moved away to light the gas lamp, hanging from the centre of the beams that crossed the roof of the room. Once it was lit, he switched the torch off and turned to face Gwen.

“They should have given us more,” he said apologetically, “I presume with us having to leave so quickly …”

He swallowed down his next words and blinked rapidly, not wanting to show his true feelings. Gwen hobbled across the room to him, inwardly wincing every time pain shot through her leg but hiding it – she didn't want another thing for Arthur to think about.

She pulled him into a hug, leaning her head against his shoulder.

 _Don't worry_ , she wanted to say, but the act of saying it would be pointless. Arthur wouldn't stop worrying for his people until the war was over, and he would never forgive himself for abandoning them. Neither would Gwen.

Instead she said, “I understand.”

Arthur rested his head against the top of her's and swallowed.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

He tilted his head down and kissed her gently on the forehead.

Gwen held onto him tightly. She didn't want to let go, never wanted to let go again after everything they had seen that day.

“You should sleep,” Arthur said, breaking the moment and pulling away, “it will help your leg to heal.” Gwen tried to protest but Arthur silently shook his head.

They made up the bed together, sheets from the cupboard and blankets, rugs and quilts. Arthur helped Gwen to slide under the covers, first checking that her leg was properly bandaged. Gwen looked up at Arthur and saw his closed off expression. Her leg was not the only thing which needed healing.

The only problem; Arthur didn't want to be healed.

* * *

 

  _**The Previous Spring** _

_Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are blowing._

_From glen to glen, and down the mountain side._

_The summer's gone, and all the roses falling._

_It's you, it's you, must go and I must bide._

Gwen paused in in her singing to bend down and admire a particularly beautiful poppy. The ground where she was knelt was covered in poppies and cornflowers, and, so late in spring, the garden was a riot of colour.

Arthur had hired gardeners to tend the front garden but round the back of the house, Gwen had been so taken by the wild flowers that she had refused to let any gardener near it, and instead let it run wild. Their house in Skaedel was at the city boundary and the garden merged with the corn fields and hills beyond. It reminded Gwen of her childhood. It made her feel free.

She moved on and sat down in the shade of an apple tree, picking at the blades of grass where she sat and fiddling with the dead leaves which lay withered on the ground.

She and Arthur had come to Skaedel only a few weeks before. Arthur's father, Uther, had gifted the city and it's lands to Arthur for his birthday. Gwen smiled at the thought. Most fathers gave their sons less extravagant gifts on their birthdays, but Uther, being Uther and owning the majority of the country anyway, saw nothing wrong with gifting away a city or two.

Arthur had gone above and beyond what was required of a governor of a city and from the moment they had arrived he had set about reforming living standards in the city, aiding the poor and providing resources to the surrounding countryside. The people had responded quickly and eagerly with liking, loyalty and allegiance to Arthur.

Gwen had laughed to herself - who could not?

Arthur appeared at that moment from round the side of the house. He looked a little grim, but still managed a smile as he dropped onto the grass beside Gwen.

“What's wrong?” Gwen asked, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. Arthur smiled again, knowing that she wouldn't let the matter rest. She wanted answers.

“War,” he mumbled quietly.

Gwen lifted his hand gently kissing the back of it tenderly as Arthur leaned back against the tree. She leaned into him.

“Is it really bad?”

“We won't make it to the end of the year without an outbreak of fighting, the city council are sure of it.”

Gwen squeezed his hand again. She wanted to reassure him. She'd always be there for him, would always stand by him.

“How are you?” Arthur asked, tucking one of her stray curls behind her ear.

Gwen let the smallest of grimaces cross her face.

“The dreams are still bad,” she replied, “the same thing every time. A city on a hill, a dragon in the sky … war.”

Arthur pulled her close caressing her cheek.

“I'll be fine now you're back,” Gwen said, sitting up and smiling.

She didn't like to talk about the dreams. About what she thought they might mean.

“Everything's going to be alright now.”

Maybe if she kept saying it, she'd believe it.

* * *

_**Autumn** _

It started with fire. It always did. Then a roar, as a great golden beast swooped overhead. A multitude of feelings, thoughts and memories danced a tango before her eyes as she tossed under the covers.

It ended with a deep feeling of loss, a strange swirl of time and decay and a silver ring embossed with a rearing dragon.

That was when she woke up.

The house was lit by the pale greyness of morning light. As her eyes adjusted, the memory of her dream faded and her reality returned. First, in the sharp pain in her leg. Second, in the realisation that the space in the bed beside her was cold and empty.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position, glancing around her wildly. The worry was tight in her chest – as it always had been during the war – that she'd wake up and he'd be gone.

Her eyes settled on him at last, standing in the doorway, looking out at the rising sun. His shoulders hunched inwards, something she rarely saw – he always stood so tall – and there was something so very _broken_ about him, that Gwen immediately slid from under the covers to go to his side.

Gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg, she hobbled across the wooden flooring of the house. The sun hadn't fully made it above the horizon and it was chilly so she took a blanket from a pile in the corner and wrapped it round herself before joining Arthur.

“Did you sleep?” she asked softly, so as not to startle him.

Arthur looked down, shaking his head.

“Why did we leave?” he asked, a tremble in his voice and his shoulders shaking as Gwen placed her hand there. With her other hand, she gently turned his head so he was looking at her.

“We had to Arthur; we had no choice.”

Arthur avoided her gaze.

“I should have been there for our people,” he murmured, “the attack happened so fast, and then you were shot,” his voice broke as he swiftly pulled her close, “I couldn't bear to lose you,” he choked out.

Gwen closed her eyes, resting against his chest and sensing the flutter of his heartbeat below.

“How are you feeling?” Arthur said, regaining his composure, “did you sleep?”

“I had the dream again,” Gwen said, “it's been getting worse, and … I've been wondering what it might mean.”

“You think there's something behind these?” Arthur inquired, lifting her chin and searching her face in concern.

“They're so vivid,” Gwen replied, hesitating as she spoke, wondering how to phrase what she said, “they don't just feel like dreams … more like _memories_.”

Arthur's expression froze, and a small frown crept across his face.

“I'm sure it's nothing though,” Gwen said, bringing a smile to her face.

Arthur looked torn, unsure of what Gwen's words actually meant, but then he nodded.

“It's probably brought on by the war, the stress,” his face clouded again and Gwen could tell his mind had returned to Skaedel.

“I'll get the radio from the car,” Gwen offered, “we can see if there's any news.”

She pulled away, reaching for the door to support her leg and Arthur immediately snapped to her aid.

“I'll get it, you sit down. You need rest. _Yes_ ,” he reiterated as she tried to protest, “you do.”

The day passed in a buzz of radio static as Arthur tried to connect to radio stations in the hope of finding out what had happened in Skaedel. Since the war began radio broadcasts had become infrequent and as the majority of the nation was more and more often without power, none but the most important of broadcasts were saved for the radio.

Arthur grew increasingly irritated as he spun the dials on the radio. Gwen took it upon herself to make the house more _live-able_. Arthur fashioned her a rough crutch, and she hobbled about the house, opening windows, remaking the bed, making it feel less like a house and more like a home.

The image of her home in Skaedel, flames licking up the walls, flashed before her eyes.

“And authorities report, the death count in Skaedel last night reached into the thousands,” the voice crackled onto the radio and Gwen froze in her dusting of the shelves, “enemy forces have claimed the city yet some still defend it along the west boundary, protecting the hospital, cathedral and market centre. Government aid is being sent but it is having trouble reaching areas where it is needed. Questions turn as to what can have happened to the city's leader, Arthur Pendragon who was reported to have left the city near midnight as the fighting reached it's peak. One message received from the city's defenders stated 'why have we been abandoned?'”

The voice died as Arthur slammed a hand down on the power button. He looked up towards Gwen and she couldn't quite tell if he was angry or sad. The dusting cloth fell from her loose grasp as she reached out towards him. He got up and hurried to her side, brushing his lips against hers.

“I know, I know,” she breathed into his neck as their fingers interwove each other and she bit her lip against the rise of emotions inside her.

“Go.”

A flutter or his lips against hers, the warm press of the hug, and then he was gone.

Gwen looked out to the door, swaying on her feet as she watched him race to the car.

_It's you it's you, must go and I must bide._

* * *

_**Winter** _

_But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,_

_Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow._

The shack he was staying in was less than equipped to keep out the freezing winds which blew, blisteringly cold through the woods. Skaedel had fallen, less than a month previous but he still continued to aid the supply wagons to the refugees now living where they could.

He hoped and prayed that Gwen would be safe.

“Arthur.”

Leon's voice, solid and calm, broke Arthur from his reverie. Leon was a rock, his presence alone calming. He'd known Arthur since the beginning. He had led Skaedel with Arthur but on the night of the attack, had not been ordered to leave by Arthur's father. Arthur still hadn't forgiven himself for leaving. Didn't think he ever would.

“There's a rebellion going on, in one of the small towns, south of Skaedel, taken over by the enemy forces not long ago. The people are winning.”

A bright blossom of hope bloomed inside Arthur at the good news.

“We should aid them,” he said, abruptly getting up from his bunk where he had been lying and reaching for his coat.

“Gwaine, Percival and Lancelot will meet us there,” Leon said, collecting his gun from where it lay on his bed.

Arthur nodded, in his mind running over the terrain south of Skaedel. It was in the middle of the plains so any air attacks would be seen coming.

“What's the name of the town?” he asked Leon as the two left the shack. The biting wind clawed at Arthur's face but he scanned the area as best he could as the snow swirled and flurried through the clearing around the shack.

“Ealdor,” Leon replied, raising his voice to be heard over the wind.

Arthur nodded, he'd heard of the town, but had never been there before.

It took them some time to free the truck from the snow drift it had been been buried under, but once they were inside, Arthur took the wheel, steering carefully down the narrow woodland track to the main road.

“Without any incidents, we should be there soon after nightfall,” Leon said.

*** * ***

The house was littered with pictures. They depicted a thousand different scenes, a myriad of faces and vague ideas that Gwen was trying to sort into order.

In the background, the radio wavered between the government report for the day and static. Gwen listened with half and ear as she rubbed the piece of charcoal over the drawing of a round table, the dragon insignia in the centre.

It was all beginning to piece together.

Over the past month, she'd been more alone than any other time she could remember. From the intermittent radio broadcasts she gathered that the war was not going well, each day the enemy got stronger. However, she did know that Arthur was still alive.

They would have broadcast his capture or his death, she was sure of it. He couldn't be gone. She would know.

And all the time, the dreams got worse.

With no other way to calm the waves of distress and fear which broke over her each night, when she woke from the dreams, she began to draw. Soon the drawings were everywhere, covering the walls and scattered across the floor as she tried to find some order, some pattern, some _truth_ behind the rough memories scattered on the on the paper.

She knew what they meant. But perhaps she was too afraid to admit to herself the consequences behind what she was seeing in her dreams, that this wasn't her first time on this earth.

Who hadn't heard of Camelot? Legends, stories, children's picture books with a boy pulling a sword from a stone and an old, white-bearded wizard. King Arthur and Excalibur, Merlin and the Knights of the Round Table. But that was all they were, stories, myths …

Arthur's face swam before her in two different realities, one where he was a King, crowned with the glory of a great kingdom and fallen upon a plain of corpses at Camlann. And another where he was just a man, trying to do right by his people.

They were far from dissimilar, but the thing Gwen was sure of, was that in this reality, Arthur was going to survive.

Gaius, the man who ran the supply truck to the house said he sometimes covered the area near Skaedel and Gwen was determined that when the time was right, she'd join Arthur.

She couldn't just keep waiting for him to come home – he might never do so.

By the fire, she finished the drawing of the round table and set it aside, next to the drawings of Morgana and the golden dragon. Stretching upwards she reached out and turned off the radio, closing her eyes briefly at the silence it brought.

That was something she couldn't stand about being alone. The quiet.

The house was supplied with electricity and so, getting up from where she had been sat, she crossed the floor to place a record on the battered record player they had salvaged from their house in Skaedel before they'd had to go.

The sound of Ernestine Schumann-Heink's recording of Danny Boy filtered out.

Gwen hugged herself and swung slowly to the music, singing in time with Ernestine's rich tone.

_And I'll be here, in sunshine or in shadow,_

_Oh danny boy, oh danny boy, I love you so._

*** * ***

They reached the county border, the night falling fast and the snow falling faster in great swirling clusters. Driving had become difficult with snow drifts blocking their route. Arthur was anxious.

As they came to the border, they arrived at a checkpoint, the truck's headlight lighting up the hut where the checkpoint wardens were sat, keeping out of the cold. Checkpoints were in general, safe and on the side of the government, but you couldn't be sure and in any case, Arthur didn't want to risk his father finding out he'd come back to Skaedel.

“Have you got the papers?” he asked Leon tautly.

Torches beams swung out of the darkness to meet them as Leon rifled through the papers in the glove compartment.

“Leon.” Arthur said through gritted teeth. He was never one to shout or panic in a crisis but his impatience flared as the torch wielding wardens reached the car.

“Here,” Leon said, handing them over with a meaningful look to Arthur. _Stay cool._

The checkpoint wasn't on an alert and so Arthur handled the fake papers with relative ease. He gave the warden a nod as he wound down the window and passed over the papers.

The man fumbled with them, his thick gloves to keep out the cold, preventing him from properly thumbing through the pages. Arthur didn't miss his gun, holstered under his coat.

He swore in a low voice as the papers fell from his grasp, scattering over the snow. Another warden arrived to help him and with a sigh, Arthur got out of the car.

“Terrible night,” he said, hastening to pick up the pages.

“Yeah, I'd stop somewhere soon, the roads are getting worse,” the warden said, handing Arthur back his papers in a jumbled, slightly soggy mess.

“Sure, you get back to the warmth,” Arthur responded, gesturing to the warden's hut.

“Thanks mate, drive safe,” the warden said, waving a hand in the air to tell the remaining wardens at the hut to lift the barrier over the road.

Arthur hopped back into the car, passing the papers to Leon and driving through the checkpoint.

“Now breathe,” Leon joked lightly.

Arthur snorted. “Come on, he barely even looked at them.”

Leon looked at Arthur almost critically.

“You do take this seriously right?” he asked.

Arthur spared a glance from the snow covered road.

“Of course I do, you know me Leon. My wife's stranded in a safe house miles away, my people have had their land taken from them … or they're dead,” he swallowed and paused for a moment before plunging on, “I have to make light of things. I can't let them weigh me down. I'll bury myself in them otherwise.”

Leon nodded. “I understand,” he replied smoothly.

“We're at war,” Arthur continued, changing gear as they began to ascend a hill, “I should be leading my people, but I don't have any people to lead.”

“You're doing your best,” Leon said, beginning to sort the papers back into order and stow them safely in the glove compartment.

“You sound like Gwen,” Arthur replied.

“You miss her,” Leon stated.

“Of course I do,” Arthur responded brusquely. “But she's safe right now. That's what matters.”

He crushed down on the knowledge that he'd rather have anything but that. Gwen by his side, _that_ was what mattered. He'd learnt, over the years, there was no one he would rather lead and fight beside.

They crested the hill, the valley below darkened save for a few stray lights of those fortunate enough to have electricity.

Just as the truck began to steadily descend the hill on the other side, they seemed to cross some sort of threshold and a faint ghostly tickling sensation ran itself over the back of Arthur's neck.

“What was that?” Leon asked, rubbing the back of his neck roughly. “Arthur? Arthur?!”

Arthur had frozen in his seat, the road and truck before him fading out of view as burning images flashed before his eyes: a castle on a hill; a sword, buried in a stone; knights who would not die; dragons in the sky, and a world at war.

He jerked back into himself in the moment as Leon leaned across him scrabbling for the wheel as the truck raced down the hill, out of control and sliding on the snow.

“ARTHUR!” Leon roared.

Arthur reached for something, anything to hold onto. He felt he should know what to do, he'd been trained for this sort of thing, but the castle still wavered before his eyes.

Gwen's castle, Gwen's dragons, Gwen's dreams – _memories_.

A name filtered into his head. _Camelot_.

Then the truck hurtled into a ditch, rolled, and as Arthur's head slammed back against the hard, unforgiving leather behind him, everything went black.

*** * ***

_And when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,_

_If I am dead, as dead I well may be._

Gaius stood before her, a look of sheer doubt on his face.

“I'm not sure it is wise Gwen,” he said, twisting his hands together, “it is dangerous.”

“You seem to cope just fine,” Gwen replied, her arms folded over her chest, determined.

Her backpack was already at her feet, lying against the doorframe where she had met Gaius when he had arrived for the deliveries.

He hadn't liked her proposition.

It was early morning and the ground was covered in a light scattering of snow. Gwen worried about what the weather must be like further north in Skaedel. Would they even be able to reach it?

“I'm not entering areas of fighting, and I'm protected by … my own methods.” He avoided Gwen's eyes with these words.

“Magic.” Gwen stated, refusing to be swayed from her position.

Gaius' eyebrow shot up with a hard stare.

“You know about it?” he asked.

“You use it?” Gwen retorted.

Gaius looked meek, “Only ever for good,” he responded, “for protection.”

“Then protect _me_ ,” Gwen half-begged. “Get me to Skaedel, get me to Arthur.”

Gaius still seemed to doubt.

“Come on Gaius, you can't expect me to sit here and wait for him to come back. _He may never do so_.”

She rammed the last five words at him, knowing he couldn't deny them.

To her surprise, Gaius gave a short chuckle.

“Gaius!” Gwen said sharply, “there's nothing funny about it!”

“No,” Gaius said, his worried and uncertain expression returning, “you just remind me of someone I used to know. She wouldn't take no for an answer.”

“Yes well, neither will I!”

“But that was all a long time ago, I sometimes forget how long I've lived.”

“Gaius. Listen to me, I _have_ to get to Arthur, and I can't do that without you.”

Gaius seemed to ponder something for a moment before nodding.

“Very well,” he sighed, “get your things in the truck, I'll just check the radio before we leave, wouldn't want to run into anything en route.”

Gwen beamed.

*** * ***

Daylight streamed in through the shattered windows of the truck as Arthur woke.

He blinked dazedly, trying to remember what had happened and as the world come into focus around him, he sensed a hot, sticky stream of blood down the side of his head.

The sour, metallic taste in his mouth he attributed to more blood, and he guessed he must have bitten his tongue.

He also realised he must have crashed the truck.

Freezing air was blowing in through the broken glass and it sharpened his senses as he shifted in his seat.

Beside him, Leon let out a low groan.

As if summoned by their consciousness, the next sound that pricked Arthur's ears was the low drone of an engine as it made its way up the hill on the far side.

 _They needed to move_.

Panic working faster and more efficiently that any other method he could have used to wake himself up, he unfastened his seatbelt, scrambling round in his seat to rip away the seat back. Underneath were his real ID papers, money, weapons and most importantly, the big panic button.

It wasn't big, red and glowing like panic buttons usually were. It was a small, thin and sleek, able to sit inside his palm and it was activated by pushing down hard on the top whilst reciting his personal distress code.

Then, all hell would break loose.

It sent emergency alert calls to the three nearest working government patrol stations, to the military base in London and to his father's identical distress sounder.

Arthur didn't need to use it now, and honestly didn't think he ever would. The alarm would initiate a series of commands which were meant for his safety. They also resulted in the obliteration of everything that stood in his 'rescuers' way. Friend and foe alike.

He couldn't risk innocent people being hurt. And whilst his father seemed to think he was more important than the people, he himself, did not. He wouldn't leave them again. Not after Skaedel.

He tucked the distress sounder away in his pocket, dumping the other objects in Leon's bag which had tumbled into his seat as the car rolled.

Arthur then turned his attention to Leon.

“Leon. Leon, wake up.”

Leon stirred, groaning again as he did so and Arthur saw, with a sickening feeling in his gut, Leon's ankle, stuck out at an odd angle.

“Leon, can you here me? Don't move too much, you've broken your ankle.”

Discarding Leon's bag, he moved in his seat again to stabilize Leon's ankle.

“What the heck is going on?” Leon asked hoarsely, his eyes flickering open.

“Crashed the car. You've broken your ankle. People coming.”

They both seemed to fall quiet for a moment, to listen to the steadily nearing whine of the engine on the far side of the hill.

Leon tried to move but yelped in pain.

Arthur hissed angrily.

“What did I say. _Don't move_.”

In the rearview mirror, Arthur glimpsed the car cresting the top of the hill.

“Arthur, go.”

“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked, reaching for snow from the car window and pakcing it over Leon's ankle

“You need to go,” Leon reiterated, after a hiss of pain, “if it's the wrong people and they catch you, the war might as well be over.”

“And leave?” Arthur snapped back, “Leaving one of my men behind isn't an option. The war was over for me the day I left Skaedel, I won't leave behind people I care about again.”

“Arthur, there's no way I'm even going to get out of the car. Go whilst you can.”

“Leon, shut up.”

The car behind them had come to a stop and Arthur paused in his ministering to Leon's ankle.

Quickly he grabbed the bag with the real ID papers and handed then to Leon who promptly stuffed them out of sight, beyond the far side of his car door, under the snow.

A face appeared at Arthur's shattered window.

“Hey, are you OK?”

“Just about, I think,” Arthur replied, swallowing back his anxiety as he tried to gauge how much of a threat this man might be. It was always so difficult to work out who was on who's side. “My friend here has broken his ankle.”

“We've got a doctor with us, maybe if you could get out of the car.”

Arthur glanced at Leon momentarily. Leon gave an almost imperceptible nod.

After forcing the door open, Arthur scrambled out, the cold air biting his skin now he was out in the open.

There were at least six other men standing in the snow around the car, and Arthur could see one in the car parked behind them, it's engine still running.

“If you don't mind,” another man said, “we'd like to check for weapons – don't know who you're meeting nowadays.”

Arthur spread his arms out, letting the men pat him down, thankful that he'd put his gun in the bag, now hidden behind the car, and that they seemed to miss the distress sounder.

It was just as they were finishing the pat down that the man who had spoken to him through the window, leant forward into the car in curiosity. Arthur tensed, his eyes meeting Leon's through the car's window.

“What the … ?” the man asked, straightening up with a few pages in his hand. In a split second Arthur realised they were the real ID papers, and that they must have slipped from the bag in his haste. He spun around, attempting to run but strong hands caught him, dragging his wrists behind his back and slamming him against the cold metal of the truck.

For a few moments, he attempted to struggle, but a low voice spoke in his ear.

“Struggle again and I'll break both your arms.”

Through the window, Arthur could see Leon, his hands raised as three different guns were pointed at him.

“Well, well, well,” came a silky voice and Arthur twisted enough in his restricted position to see that the seventh man, the one from the car, had joined them. He was looking through the ID papers that had been handed him.

“Arthur Pendragon. What an honour.”

His long, dank hair hung in curtains around his face and his dark eyes glittered as he surveyed Arthur.

“Tie him up, get him in the car. Let Our Lady know.”

Rough rope was bound around Arthur's wrists and he was shoved towards the car. He heard Leon cry out in pain as he was dragged from the truck. Arthur tried to get back to help him, but he was sent stumbling forwards with a well aimed kick.

Once in the car, he was made to sit in the middle seat, a man on either side of him.

He'd just registered Leon being forced into the back seat, before a black sack was pulled over his head.

The stench of chloroform sent his head spinning, and the world around him faded into nothingness.

*** * ***

The voice on the radio made Gwen freeze where she stood in the doorway. Gaius was leaning heavily on the table, listening to the radio, his face grim.

“ _This report just in. Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther Pendragon and governor of Skaedel, has been captured by enemy forces._ ”

The sigh of relief that escaped Gwen was short lived. He isn't dead. _He isn't dead_.

“ _Cenred DeLacy send out the report of Pendragon's capture and is now holding Pendragon in an undisclosed location. Uther Pendragon has issued this statement-_ ”

“Turn it off,” Gwen said quietly. She didn't care what Uther had to say. If he cared at all for his son, he would never have ordered for them to leave Skaedel.

“We need to find him.”

Gaius nodded and stood up. “I'll take you to the border,” he replied.

Gwen left the house, taking deep, shuddering breaths. _He isn't dead._

She scratched the back of her neck absentmindedly, for some reason, her dreams coming to the forefront of her mind. Last time, and that was how she referred to it now, _last time_ , Arthur hadn't died like this. This was Arthur, he was strong. He wouldn't give up easily.

_He wouldn't go without saying goodbye._

She headed for Gaius' truck, looking back for Gaius who appeared to still be in the house. Her crutch from when they had got to the house two months ago was propped up against the wall and she brushed the scar on her leg. It was completely healed now, but she guessed she'd have the scar permanently.

_How many scars would this war leave?_

They were in the truck, and well on their way, winding down through the pine forest before Gaius spoke.

“In the house, there were lots of drawings. What were they of?”

Gwen studied her hands for a moment. “I've been having bad dreams. Every night, for months now. Those drawings, they're the things I see.”

Gaius let out a breath. “I thought it was just me.”

Gwen jerked her head up rapidly, staring wonderingly at Gaius.

“You've been having these dreams too?” she gasped.

Gaius nodded, there was a moments pause where he slowed the truck to a stop in the road and then he turned to face her.

“Intermittent, sometimes I'd put it down to deja vu or just one too many historical movies, but I saw things so clearly. And your face, I'd seen you before I even met you coming out here for the supply runs. I couldn't understand it and didn't dare talk to you about it; I'd only sound mad and I didn't want to scare you. Until today, the drawings … it's all the same.”

Gwen grabbed his hand, a strange fluttering going on in her heart, “So you think it's real? That there really was a Camelot, that we're here again now like we were back then. That Arthur is _the_ Arthur Pendragon?” Her voice had risen and Gaius looked slightly taken aback. Gwen put it down to be alone for so much of the time recently. She'd been more than aware that she might be going mad, what with seeing medieval castles and kings in her dreams, but Gaius had seen the same thing. Gaius understood. And giving her more than just happiness, that fact gave her hope.

“We'll have to wait and see,” Gaius said slowly. “History doesn't seem to be playing itself out exactly as it did before. For example, have you seen anything of Merlin? Or Morgana? Things appear to be happening but we cannot be sure if this is the right time for the new age.”

“The new age?” Gwen asked. It all suddenly seemed a little beyond her. Destiny was not something she was readily willing to accept.

“In the hour of Albion's greatest need, Arthur will rise again,” Gaius replied, “but we cannot be sure. Is this Albion? Is the hour really so dark? Is Arthur _the_ Arthur?”

Gwen swallowed, thinking of everything she knew of both Arthurs. The one from fantasy, and the one in her reality now.

Her Arthur was good and kind and just. He was willing to do anything for his people.

It rang so very true with what she knew of the Arthur of old.

“I'm sure he is,” she responded, her tone edged with a certainty that she knew another Guinevere long ago also had in her husband.

Gaius gave a small laugh.

“When I said you reminded me of someone I used to know, you realise I meant … _other_ Guinevere.”

“It's not just Arthur who's similar to his past self,” Gwen said, smiling.

Gaius started up the engine again and they drove on, winding down the long hill.

“I'm glad we found each other Gaius,” Gwen said softly after a long time of travelling in silence.

“I am too Gwen,” he responded, “it's people like you, and Arthur, who give us all hope.”

“But if we are,” Gwen persisted, “if we are … if this is the new age, how will we know?”

Gaius spared a glance from the road.

“Time,” he said simply, “time will tell.”

Gwen sat back in her seat, gnawing her lower lip in thought. She wished time would get a move on.

*** * ***

He woke up slowly, keeping his eyes shut and his body slack. He didn't feel aware of the world around him, his senses seemed shut off behind a wall of drowsiness and so he waited patiently for the last drips of sleep to fall away.

That and the fact he could tell he was bound to a chair in a very cold place, meaning he wasn't entirely _keen_ for alertness to come. Sleep was, perhaps, easier to handle.

However, that seemed to be denied him as he was showered in wave of icy water. He sat up abruptly, gasping for air which was difficult, with his hand tied behind the back of the chair he was sat on.

“Good, you're awake,” came a snide voice from above him.

“Didn't have much choice in the matter did I?” Arthur grumbled, looking up to meet his captor's gaze.

It was the man from the car. His long dark hair was pulled back from his face, now in a ponytail, and he swept Arthur with a cursory gaze. He dropped the bucket he had used to drench Arthur and dropped into a chair facing Arthur, lounging back, and smiling.

The cell, which Arthur he realised he was in after a short glance around – stone walls, narrow windows, low light and a stench that he didn't want to think about – was freezing cold. The water which the other man had thrown over him was already turning to ice over Arthur's shirt. They'd taken his coat, his scarf and his boots and socks and now he was left in shirt and pants. They were rapidly freezing to him.

He clenched his jaw to stop his teeth chattering.

“Well, it's a pleasure to meet you at last Mr Pendragon, or should I say, _Your Highness_?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the mocking quality to the other man's tone.

“As much as I appreciate the title, I'm not a king,” he replied.

“Oh what do any of us know of that any more?” the man responded with a wave of his hand, “Is this Albion? Is magic real? Is this our second life? Are you the Once and Future King?”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the rapid visions of the night before flashing before his eyes.

“ _they don't just feel like dreams … more like memories._ ”

Gwen had known. Gwen had had these dreams, she'd seen these things. So had he, so had this other man. How many other people?

He shut off the dancing thoughts, forcing himself to concentrate on the matter in hand. He remained impassive, or as impassive as it was possible to be when freezing to his seat.

“You haven't been having the dreams?” the other man asked, his gaze, for a moment, intrigued.

Arthur didn't reply. He was still processing the visions of the previous night, debating what they could mean. He wasn't about to let this other man know, he still wasn't sure himself anyway.

“Oh no,” the man continued, “the force field. You'll have driven through it last night. That's why you crashed.”

Arthur remembered the tickling sensation but still stayed silent. A part of him began to feel uneasy, how did this man know so much?

“Our Lady was right, she knew you'd come running back to Skaedel eventually. Just as _sentimental_ as your old self.”

Arthur came to the sudden realisation of who the man was. Images and visions from the previous night all beginning to fit together.

“You don't appeared to have changed much either, Cenred,” he responded, boosted momentarily, having gained the upper hand in the conversation, the silent battle of wills and knowledge.

Cenred narrowed his eyes, clearly not expecting Arthur to have worked out who he was.

“Glad we're able to see each other clearly,” Cenred smirked, recovering from Arthur's blow and inspecting his nails.

“How's Guinevere?”

Arthur jolted where he sat, fear washing over him.

“You haven't … you … if you've hurt her,” he stammered.

“Oh no,” Cenred replied smoothly, “no, no, not yet.”

Arthur attempted to stand up, trying to get to Cenred and lay his hands around his throat. The ropes held him back.

Cenred smiled wider.

“Now,” he said, clapping his hands together, “down to business. We need information Pendragon, information paramount to our success in this war. Handily you've come along at just the right moment.”

Arthur jutted his jaw out, eyes defiant. “You think I'll tell you anything?”

Cenred smirked. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

*** * ***

“ _Be careful_.”

Those were Gaius' last words to her as he left her outside a small inn on the Skaedel border. He'd gone on, having to do his rounds and get help to where it was needed. Gwen was on her own.

The inn was surprisingly busy considering the war being waged and the fighting going on only a few miles over the border. Gwen however felt terribly inconspicuous, as far as she could see, she was the only woman travelling by herself. The inn's patrons were mostly made up of men, who sat around in groups, laughing loudly, or sole figures, wrapped up in cloaks and darkness on the edges of the room.

She booked a room for the night and ordered food to be taken up there. The girl who took her registration smiled at her kindly and Gwen was soothed a little.

She was still nervous though. The thought that someone, at any time could recognise her made her anxious to get upstairs and away from other people.

“You'll just have to wait a minute for your room,” the girl said, “I think they're still cleaning.”

Gwen nodded, trying not to appear rattled and went to sit at a table, her face tilted down so as to avoid people looking at her too closely.

She was jolted out of a moment of thought, when someone sat down at the table opposite her.

“Well I would say it's a pleasure to see you,” came the voice of her brother, and Gwen jerked her head up, eyes wide. “But that would be a lie.”

Gwen bit her lip and Elyan frowned.

“What are you doing here Gwen?” he asked, his expression concerned.

Gwen looked his straight in the eye – she had never been afraid to do that – and sat up straight.

“I'm looking for Arthur,” she responded, careful to keep the certainty in her voice but also, keep it low.

Elyan snorted, meeting her gaze with a bemused expression.

“Gwen, Cenred DeLacy's got him, you haven't a hope of finding him.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes. “Elyan, he is my _husband_. If you think I'm just going to sit by and-”

“Would he want you risking yourself?” Elyan cut in.

“No he wouldn't, but that's only because-”

“He cares about you. Like I do.” Elyan interrupted her once again and Gwen silently fumed.

“So just sitting tight at the safe house, that was the right thing to do?” she asked fiercely.

Elyan sat back in his chair, sighing.

“You're not going to find him,” he said firmly.

“I can try.”

There was a moment, where both of them sized each other up across the table, a moment of careful calculation that only siblings would be able to do. Elyan broke the eye contact, shaking his head and getting to his feet.

“I'll talk to some people I know, see if there's any murmurings of where Cenred is,” he said.

Gwen beamed. “Thank you!” she said.

Elyan grimaced. “Shouldn't be doing this,” he mumbled.

Gwen caught his wrist as he turned to leave. “Elyan … be careful.”

He bent down and kissed the top of her head gently. “You too.”

“I'll be in touch,” he said finally, moving away from her table and disappearing into the crowds.

Gwen thought about how infrequently she saw Elyan, how all the time they seemed to knock off each other, unable to just have a normal conversation. There always seemed something bigger involved on her part, and Elyan's life – in his words – just didn't match up to that of a wife of a Pendragon.

She longed inwardly for the time before their father had died, when Elyan had been easy going, learning how to run the blacksmith forge with their father and teasing her about Arthur.

Their dad hadn't made it to the wedding day. Neither had Elyan for that matter.

He'd disappeared for so long, travelling all over the country. When he had come back to Skaedel in the winter, he'd been ever so slightly withdrawn. Never answering directly about where he'd been, never talking about himself, always directing the conversation back to them. And even then he hadn't stayed long.

He had been loyal to Arthur, for that Gwen was thankful. He'd helped uncover underground organisations and revealed spies in Arthur's council. Somewhat like the Knight of old that she now also remembered him as.

Past and present blended together like one before her eyes and she felt a deep pang of pain in her gut. She couldn't lose Elyan again. Couldn't lose Arthur. Couldn't lose any of them.

The time after Arthur's death, in her dreams, was filled only with pain as, alone, she watched everything they had built, fall.

 _Not this time_ , she thought determinedly. _Not this time_.

*** * ***

Arthur guessed he had been so cold, he had slipped into some form of deep sleep and it was only the breath of warmth that touched his skin, that woke him.

Climbing from the pit of unconsciousness, his eyes eventually fluttered open. He regretted it.

Cenred stood next to his chair, a brazier of wood and hot coals next to him and he was rearranging a set of pokers in amongst the coals.

“Oh good, this would have been a lot less fun if you'd been asleep,” he says, motioning for a guard to come to Arthur's side. The guard undid the ropes round Arthur's wrists and dragged him to the centre of the cell where he fastened chains around his wrists instead. The chains led to a hook on the ceiling and then fed down to a winch in the corner.

Once Arthur was fastened securely, the guard went over and began to winch Arthur up. By the time he stopped, Arthur's toes were barely brushing the floor and his arms felt ready to come out of their sockets.

“I'll give you one last choice,” Cenred said, lifting a poker from the brazier, its tip white-hot.

Gritting his teeth for the pain that was to come, Arthur shook his head.

“Right then,” Cenred said, his tone far too cheerful as he stepped close to Arthur. “Lets start with something simple then. I want you to give me the locations of the government safe houses around the capital.”

He thrusted the poker forward catching Arthur along his side, sliding into the spaces between his ribs. Arthur screamed out, his body convulsing and his feet lifting off the ground.

His father had always taught him that one day he might have to face something like this, but Arthur had always thought he would be prepared.

Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Cenred took the poker away, dropping it back into the brazier.

He reached out and touched Arthur gently along the edge of his burn causing Arthur to hiss through his teeth, trying to get away from Cenred's touch.

“Such a brave man Arthur,” Cenred was saying, “but you don't need to be brave now, bravery doesn't matter here. You're going to die, just like last time.”

Arthur caught his balance on his toes and looked towards Cenred with the deepest loathing he could manage.

“I won't be the only one then,” he spat.

Cenred's face turned a little sour and he stepped away from Arthur, reaching for another poker.

“Ready, Your Highness?”

*** * ***

The noise in the inn stilled for a moment, then continued, slightly overly-exuberant. Gwen chanced a glance over her shoulder and felt like someone had just tossed icy water over her.

Morgana had entered the inn, her face shadowed under the hood of her cloak but undoubtedly Morgana. Gwen hastened to be looking down again, angling her body away from Morgana, her heart beating a staccato rhythm against her chest.

Morgana passed right behind her, Gwen felt her cloak snag at the chair and she held her breath, waiting for the inevitable.

It didn't come.

Morgana sat down, a few tables away in a dark corner with another figure.

Gwen, despite the fact she should be getting as far away from the place as possible, couldn't help but listen in.

“Cenred has Arthur, if we choose to act upon Uther now, he'll have no choice but to give in. He cares for his son more than the kingdom, no matter what he might say,” Morgana's voice was smooth but with a fierce edge to it. Gwen could hear the hatred etched deep in her tone.

She wondered if Morgana had always hated Uther and Arthur, or if it were simply since the memories of old had returned to her. Gwen pondered what other life Morgana may have led before the past one collided with it.

“And what of Emrys?” came the reply, a man. “He is surely waiting for you to make a move so that he can retaliate.”

“Don't be so stupid, Agravaine.” Morgana snapped. “If Emrys were here, he'd have gone straight to Arthur's aid when Cenred caught him. Do you think he'd have let his precious king be hurt?”

Gwen had to force herself not to turn around. Agravaine, Arthur's uncle, was just as slippery in this life as he had been in the last.

“You think you can take him?” came Agravaine's response.

Morgana paused for a moment.

“It matters not,” she said hurriedly. “Once Arthur is dead, all Emrys sought for will be destroyed.”

“And the others? The knights? Guinevere?”

Morgana's laugh we derisive. “You think they're a threat?”

“I'm just pointing out-”

“None of them would ever make a match for me,” Morgana said, her voice boastful.

 _Oh really_? Gwen thought angrily. Morgana had no idea what Gwen would do if she laid even a finger on Arthur.

“Are you travelling to Cenred's now?” Agravaine asked.

“Yes. He's been making good use of Arthur's company, when Uther falls he'll have nowhere to go. Apparently Arthur's been quite forthcoming in giving information. Or at least, once Cenred worked his magic.”

Gwen was physically shaking. _They've hurt him. They've hurt him._ Why did she ever let him go?

“Once last thing,” Agravaine said, grasping Morgana's cloak as she got up to leave. “Magic. Is it … is it still real?”

Morgana gave a humourless chuckle. “Oh yes, I've been plagued with my gifts in this lifetime like the last. It's the fabric of the world, it will never fade.”

She left then, sweeping out of the inn in a swirl of her cloak.

Gwen breathed for what felt like the first time in many minutes.

The girl who had taking Gwen's booking beckoned her and Gwen got up, following her up the stairs to her room.

Once inside, with the door shut, she paced the room several times, debating the best course of action. Arthur had been hurt. Morgana was going to overthrow Uther. It was all going wrong. She dropped down onto the bed, knowing there was nothing else she could do until Elyan's message arrived with Cenred's location.

Little did she know that down below in the inn, Agravaine had seen her exchange with Elyan and heard their conversation and was now hurrying from the inn to catch up with Morgana.

As she fell asleep, she didn't know that when she woke up, she'd be with Arthur again.

*** * ***

_Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying,_

_And kneel and say an Ave there for me._

Gentle, soft fingers were running themselves over Arthur and her could hear soft murmuring in a language he couldn't recognise.

Everything ached. His arms, his legs. His sides were still burning from where Cenred had scorched him but most of all, his heart ached. He'd given so much away. He'd given up so many of the Kingdom's secrets. How many people were going to die because he hadn't been strong enough to fight Cenred off? What had he done?

He whimpered, trying to swat the fingers away.

“Stay still,” came a quiet voice, “I'm trying to heal you.”

Arthur relaxed under the touch and the calming voice. His eyes were still shut but he could tell he was lying on the floor, his hands bound with rope. He guessed Cenred must have had him taken down from the chains once the interrogation was over.

He couldn't quite remember.

He tried to place the voice, it's tone stirring a memory deep inside him.

The pain from his burns was receding and he felt the strength begin to return to his arms and legs. With strength came a clarity of thought and it was only then that he was able to place the voice.

“Merlin.”

His eyes snapped open and he jerked upright. Merlin was knelt next to him, his mop of black hair in Arthur's face and his thin, pale fingers still running carefully over Arthur's burns to heal them.

“Took you a while,” Merlin responded, and though Arthur couldn't see his face her knew Merlin was smiling. He knocked Merlin gently on the arm.

“Let me off, it's been a long time since I've seen you.”

His own smile faded as Merlin looked up, his face pained.

“You got that right,” he mumbled hoarsely.

“Merlin … Merlin I'm sorry …” Arthur felt helpless, reaching out awkwardly to touch Merlin, to console him.

Merlin looked down again, shrugging his shoulders.

“It doesn't matter.”

Arthur's words stuck in his throat, his mind cartwheeling back to a different time, a different place when he'd been King and Merlin had been the loyal manservant at his side. The magic and power inside of him, hidden.

“You've been waiting all this time?” Arthur asked softly.

Merlin nodded, finally sitting back from Arthur and meeting his gaze.

“The funny thing is I don't even know if it's you. There's been so many people, so many lives, so many _Arthurs._ I've tricked myself into believing that it's him, that people are him and I … I've got it wrong so many times.”

Words failed Arthur as he looked at Merlin, a face worn by time and pain, eyes haunted by things Arthur would even dare think about.

Merlin roughly scrubbed his eyes with his fists.

“I should be going,” he said, “Cenred will be back soon. I can't let him alert Morgana that I've been here.”

“What … you're leaving me here?” Arthur asked, startled. What was the point in healing his wounds if Cenred were only to come back and forge them again?

“Things are happening,” Merlin said, “things are moving forward faster than expected and I need to stop Morgana. The only way of doing that, is letting her think she's won.”

“And that means …” Arthur was at a loss as to how Merlin thought it was better to leave him behind.

“The time will come to escape,” Merlin said. “You must be ready.”

Arthur snorted lightly. “Look at you, giving the orders.”

“How times change,” Merlin responded, smiling ever so slightly.

“And people,” Arthur responded, pointedly looking at Merlin.

Merlin swallowed back his smile, regarding Arthur somewhat cooly. “I'm not the only one.”

Then with a turn and a flap of his cape, Merlin was gone.

*** * ***

Gwen's sleeping form on the bed caused Morgana to pause briefly.

She'd met many people from her past life, many faces from whom many memories shot forth, but none so fiercely as Gwen.

She remembered everything about her, how she'd been a servant who fell in love with a prince and worn the crown Morgana should have worn.

“We could just kill her now,” Agravaine said softly beside her, “surely it would be best, to get rid of her.”

“How cold-hearted you've become Agravaine,” Morgana said, her lip curling, “and no, she's more use to us alive. Plus, killing people doesn't really seem to work nowadays.”

She reached out a hand, casting it over Gwen's body, her eyes glowing gold.

“How do you do it Agravaine?” she asked, the softest of tremors in her voice. “How do you distance yourself? Not feel the pain?”

Gwen was once her friend. _Once_.

“It is only by distancing ourselves, that we can win. Pain causes us to falter, emotions make us stumble. Live without them, and no power on earth can stand in your way.”

“Get your men to take her to Cenred, I'll be there soon.”

She left the room, sunny days with kind, gentle friends, piercing her thoughts. Before Morgause, before she'd lost everything.

Her resolve hardened as she thought of Uther. The man who hated everything she had been and had founded his hatred on his own failings. Arthur and the others were the only way she could break Uther. By Arthur's death, she would tear down everything Uther held dear. And not only Uther, Emrys also. And once they were gone, she could bring magic back to the land and everything would be right.

She let out a heavy breath and descended the stairs back into the inn. She ignored the frightened silence that welcomed her presence and swept from the building, out into the night.

*** * ***

As she woke, Gwen knew something was wrong. He comfortable room at the inn was freezing cold and the bed was suddenly very hard. She opened her eyes to near darkness and the realisation we wasn't in her inn anymore. She was in a cell.

One of her ankles was chained to the wall by a thick chain and her wrists were bound roughly with rope.

How did she end up here?

Across the cell however, was her biggest surprise.

“Arthur?!” She jerked forward, trying to crawl across to him, but the chain wouldn't allow her more than a meter.

“Arthur. Arthur!”

He didn't respond to her voice and his body was still, rolled away from Gwen.

 _He must be asleep_ , she reasoned, _he must be asleep_. She didn't dare consider the alternative.

She was relieved to notice the faintest rising and falling of Arthur's back. She sat back against the wall watching him carefully, not knowing what she would do if he ceased to breathe.

“Wake up Arthur … please.”

She knew they'd hurt him. She knew Cenred must have tortured Arthur and she silently pleaded to whatever gods that might be listening, that Arthur would wake up.

She heard footsteps echoing down the passageway outside and pushed herself as far into the corner of the room as she would go.

Angry voices accompanied the footsteps and Gwen dreaded who might be coming towards their cell. If it were Morgana, then there were as good as dead. If it were Cenred … she wouldn't sit by and watch Arthur hurt, that much she knew.

The footsteps came to a stop and through the bars on the cell door, Gwen could hear the conversation. She recognised the first voice and after a moment, after searching through the ranks of memories that now lined her head, she placed the second.

“We have orders from the Lady Morgana, or do you wish to go against her wishes?” Agravaine asked, his tone fierce.

“Don't tell me you don't wish the brat dead, why let Morgana have all the fun,” came Cenred's smooth reply.

“And you think she'll reward you if he ends up dead by any hand but her own?” Agravaine asked sharply.

“He's going to die anyway, why should it matter?”

“She has specifically requested-”

“And you're ready to do her bidding? Come on Agravaine, be a man, why should she order you around like a lost puppy?”

“What, like Morgause did you?”

“All I'm saying is she doesn't have power over us.”

“Bar the slightly significant problem of _magic_.”

There was a silence, Agravaine's words seeming to have hit Cenred in the right spot to make him quiet.

Then Cenred spoke again.

“Just think, cast you mind back, think of everything Uther Pendragon has done to you, and now tell me you wouldn't like the pleasure of causing him as much pain as possible.”

There was a silence.

“The tool to causing that pain is imprisoned in this room, just waiting for your dagger,” Cenred continued.

The door of the cell abruptly banged open and Agravaine stormed in, going to Arthur and kicking him hard in the back. Arthur rolled over, backing up into the corner as he appeared to be roused from his sleep.

“You?” he asked hoarsely, then his expression dropped, “of course. Just like last time.”

“Yes,” Agravaine replied, his smile broad, “except this time, I'll have the pleasure of killing you myself.”

He unsheathed his dagger, planting a boot on Arthur's shoulder but when Arthur tried to struggle, he moved the boot to his throat.

He flipped the dagger in his hand, smiling still.

“Look at this,” he said, “you at my mercy. Funny how the tables turn.”

“Just get on with it Agravaine,” came Cenred's bored voice from the doorway.

Gwen decided she needed to do something, and fast, and got up in her corner, wrestling against the chain when it stopped her short.

“Leave him alone Agravaine.”

Arthur's face, when he saw Gwen, made her regret even moving.

“Gwen?” he wheezed out.

Agravaine laughed and knelt down beside Arthur, removing his boot from Arthur's throat.

“This is for you mother,” he spat in Arthur's face, “she should have lived, not you.”

He plunged the dagger downwards and Gwen screamed out, lunging forwards.

Agravaine had halted however, the blade not a centimetre above Arthur's chest.

“What is it?” Cenred snapped.

“I thought you said you tortured him,” Agravaine said, his gaze turning to Cenred.

“I did,” Cenred responded silkily.

“Then why is he not wounded?” Agravaine asked.

“What?”

Cenred strode across to Arthur's side, ripping back his shirt and examining him.

His face went pale.

“It must be Emrys,” he said quietly.

He leapt up and stormed from the cell.

“Lock down the castle! Search the place!” Gwen heard him shouting. Agravine also got to his feet.

“So Arthur, where's Merlin now?” he asked.

There was a large amount of shouting from the corridor and Gwen distinctly heard shots being fired.

Agravaine's gave a concerned glance to the door.

Arthur spoke however and Agravaine's head snapped round.

“Interesting way of avenging my mother, killing her only son.”

“I hardly think Igraine would have been proud to see _you_ as her son,” Agravaine sneered back, “you're hardly a fitting reward worth giving your life for.”

“You pretend to know what she would have wanted?”

“I know she would never have wanted you. Uther's puppet, weak, simple. You don't even compare to her perfection.”

“I don't pretend to,” Arthur responded calmly.

Agravaine got angry, once again stepping down on Arthur's throat. He was pressing so hard that Arthur began to wheeze, Agravaine restricting his airway.

“She was the purest, kindness, most beautiful woman I have ever known and you took all that away,” he snarled.

“Gentlemen,” came a joking voice from the doorway, one that made Gwen look around in surprise. Agravaine stepped away from Arthur in surprise and Arthur at once scrambled to his feet.

Gwaine stood in the doorway, an easy smile on his face.

“I'm afraid your presence in the castle is highly unwelcome Agravaine,” Gwaine continued.

Agravaine snorted. “What are you talking about? And how did you make it past the guards?”

“There are none,” Gwaine replied, smiling airily, “this castle is now under the command of the Camelot knights.”

Behind Gwaine appeared more figures, Percival, Lancelot, Leon on crutches, and to Gwen's surprise, Elyan, her brother.

Agravaine sized up the situation and then abruptly dived for Gwen, dragging her round and laying his dagger across her neck.

Arthur shouted out, stepping forwards, eyes ablaze.

“You let her go,” he growled.

“No, I don't think so, you see, Gwennie here is all that's stopping you from killing me,” Agravaine replied, his breath hot on the side of Gwen's face.

“My name, is Guinevere,” she snapped, wrestling against Agravaine's grip.

“All very nice your highness,” Agravaine said and although Gwen couldn't see, she could tell Agravaine was smirking. “Now, Gwaine, you come here, I'm sure you've got the keys. Undo Guinevere's shackles and then you can escort me and her from the building.”

“If you're good,” he breathed in Gwen's ear, “I'll let you live long enough to see your friends die.”

Gwaine looked to Arthur for a response and Arthur nodded, his expression pained.

Gwaine stepped over and bent down to unlock the shackle. As he stood back up he briefly squeezed Gwen's hand in reassurance.

“The rest of you move out the way. Know that I won't hesitate to slit her throat if given a reason,” Agravaine snapped.

The Knights parted and Gwaine left the cell ahead of them.

Agravaine had just forced Gwen to take a first staggering step forward, when there was a great flash of light in the room.

Agravaine turned, his blade leaving Gwen's throat in his surprise.

Merlin stood in the corner, his hand outstretched and as Agravaine reached once more to pull Gwen close to him, Merlin's eyes flashed gold and he was tossed across the room like a toy. He smacked back against the wall, his head snapping backwards to hit stone and he crumpled to the floor.

Gwen flung herself into Arthur's arms.

“Is he dead?” Gwaine asked distastefully.

Merlin didn't respond out loud but from the slightly awkward silence that followed, Gwen guessed he had replied with the affirmative.

She didn't care. All she knew were Arthur's arms around her and all the fear, worry and confusion of the past weeks disappearing in a flash.

*** * ***

Arthur had questions, so many questions, but for the moment, he put them aside and simply took Gwen in. When he'd seen her in the cell, everything had fallen apart. He didn't care what happened to him, if Guinevere was hurt … He shut the thought off, simply holding Gwen close, not daring to let go.

“When you two are done,” came Gwaine's voice and Arthur glared him into silence over Gwen's shoulder.

Gwen however pulled away, the smallest of smiles on her lips.

“We'll talk later,” she murmured and Arthur nodded. Then he turned to the group.

“So, what's going on?” he asked expectantly.

There was a slight pause then everyone started talk at once, a general outburst of every trying to tell their own story.

Beside Arthur, Gwen was silent, and across the cell, Arthur could see that Merlin was also quiet.

“Merlin,” he said, cutting through the noise of his knights, “what's going on?”

Merlin coughed and looked up, something in his gaze which Arthur couldn't quite place.

“I presume everyone's had the dreams,” he asked, looking round at the knights.

“What the big dragon, war, ancient king dreams? Yeah,” Gwaine responded, “we've had them.”

“Well then,” Merlin rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, “you'll understand that … well, this is not the first time you've all been around, this is the new Albion.”

There was a slight pause, then Lancelot spoke up.

“Is it your second time too? Did you,” he paused for a moment, clearly stuck on how to phrase his question, “die?” he finished.

“No exactly,” Merlin replied awkwardly.

“You mean you've been waiting all this time?” Gwen asked softly.

There was a silence in which everyone gave Merlin pitying looks which he studiously avoided.

“It doesn't matter,” he said eventually, “what matters is now. Morgana will be on her way, we may have got rid of Cenred and Agravaine but she's worse than them, ten times over.”

“Right then,” Gwaine said, clapping his hands together, “what's the plan?”

Arthur felt eyes turn in his direction.

He blinked, unsure of what to say. The King of old in him would never have had such doubts.

“We take back Skaedel,” Gwen said, a gently reassuring hand on Arthur's arm, “we free the people, we end the war.”

“All sounds very simple when you put it like that,” Percival mumbled.

“It is simple,” Gwen responded, lifting her chin, “if we work together.”

In the cell, there was a strange sense of companionship, stories from the past knotting together to form a sensation of brotherhood, of friendship.

The Knights of Camelot stood together again.

Arthur only wished, he was strong enough to lead them.

*** * ***

They left the castle, walking down long, deserted hallways and out into the courtyard. It was early morning, the sun just beginning to appear over the horizon and for the first time in a very long time, Gwen felt safe and content, Arthur's arm around her, the Knights with them … it all seemed right.

Gwaine was leading the way with Percival, then came her and Arthur with Lancelot and Elyan helping Leon and Merlin at the back.

Merlin had been quiet, only talking when questioned directly and not acting at all like the Merlin Gwen remembered. She guessed time must have changed him. It couldn't have been easy, alone for so long.

At the head of the group, Gwaine and Percival came to a sudden halt and Gwen, looking round them, froze. In the gateway to the courtyard stood Morgana, her face shadowed under the hood of her black cloak and the curls of her hair dancing slightly in the early morning breeze.

Arthur pulled Gwen closer to him and from behind them, Gwen heard Merlin step closer.

Without warning, Morgana lifted a hand, her eyes glowing gold and Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Elyan and Lancelot went flying backwards.

Merlin moved in front of Arthur, his had raised in warning.

Morgana just laughed, the eery sound echoing round the courtyard.

“Oh you would wouldn't you? Move to protect your king. Like it did much good last time,” her eyes were dancing wickedly as she surveyed the scene.

“You couldn't save the others either, could you?” she continued, her gaze traveling over the Knights, “Gwaine, Lancelot, Elyan, poor souls and the rest … old age took them like you hoped for so long that it would do for you.”

Merlin's hands were clenched into fists and he appeared to be shaking with anger.

“You can't save them this time either.”

Her eyes glowed again and Gwen watched in horror as Gwaine rose from where he had fallen, grasping as his neck where something seemed to be choking him.

With a wave of his hand, Merlin broke the spell and Gwaine collapsed back to the ground, gasping for breath.

“Ooh, very good,” Morgana mocked.

Once again she cast a spell, and this time it was Lancelot who was sent flying backwards to crash heavily into the wall of the courtyard.

“What will you do Emrys? When I kill them all? When it's just you left again to wander this world alone, knowing you failed yet again?”

She was taunting him, even as she spoke, working her way round the Knights, casting spells which Merlin just as quickly undid.

“When all the world falls into darkness yet again what will you do? Knowing you failed them, failed your friends because no matter how hard you try you will never be strong enough to protect them all.”

Morgana's gaze turned on Gwen and she suddenly felt very weak. He knees buckled under her and Arthur hastened to hold her up.

“Gwen?” he asked urgently, his face swimming in Gwen's vision, “Gwen?!”

Her eyes began to close.

Her strength returned in a flash and she opened her eyes to see Merlin standing above her, his gaze concerned as his eyes glowed.

Gwen nodded to him, showing that she was alright and after a moment, Merlin turned back to Morgana.

“You've failed them so many times, all the people around you who you've seen die because you couldn't save them. You're hurting them by trying to protect them, they could have led ordinary lives but for your interference, have you ever wondered if they'd have been better off without you? We both know the answer to that, _Emrys_.”

“Call me by my name!” Merlin suddenly roared out, making everyone in the courtyard jump, “why can't you call me by my name? Why must it always be Emrys? Emrys your foe, not Merlin your friend? Why can't you understand I've been trying to help you?”

“Help me? Help me?” Morgana was angry now, her eyes sparking with fury, “how have you helped me? You poisoned me, rejected me, turned against me, _killed_ me! You expect me to be grateful _Merlin_? You expect me to forgive you for what you've done? You haunted my past and now you're here to destroy my present. Not Merlin the friend no, Merlin the liar, Merlin the betrayer. And not Emrys the foe either, no, you are so much more than that. Emrys the destroyer, Emrys the plague. Do not see yourself as a saviour, you've never saved anything and never will. You're only path in life leads to destruction and I'm the only one brave enough to see it. So help me I will see an end to you and all you hold dear.”

A great ball of fire came shooting across the courtyard towards Arthur and Merlin deflected it, only just in time. Gwen felt its searing heat pass over them.

“Not this time,” Merlin growled.

He raised his hand, knocking Morgana backwards and she gave a small scream as Merlin walked over to her. She tried to raise her hand, trying to lash out but Merlin held her down.

There wasn't anger in his face anymore, only sadness and as he stood above her, he released the spell holding Morgana down. She leapt to her feet, glaring at Merlin who simply spread his arms out.

“If you think it'll make you happy, then kill me now,” he said softly, his voice almost lost in the breeze.

“Merlin, no …” Gwen heard Arthur murmur.

Morgana placed a hand over Merlin's heart, her eyes ablaze and Gwen saw a smile of triumph on her face.

Merlin fell to his knees, his face resigned.

“I'm trying to help you,” he said, eyes filled with a deep pain.

“Oh yes,” Morgana said, her smile wicked, “you will help me Emrys.”

Before their eyes, Merlin collapsed under Morgana's spell.

“No!” Arthur shouted, rising to his feet.

The Knights had also risen, Gwaine firing shots at Morgana, which she deflected. Lancelot was trying to get near, but Morgana held him away and the others shouted to Merlin, watching helplessly as Morgana took his wrist, and they both disappeared in a flash of light.

The courtyard fell quiet.

Silent tears ran down Gwen's face. Arthur looked desolate, gazing at the place where Merlin had been.

“What was he doing?” Gwaine asked, his face also stained with tears, “why didn't he fight?”

“He wanted to help her,” Arthur responded.

Gwen reached out for Arthur and he helped her to her feet. He pulled her close, hugging her tightly.

“What's going to happen now?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is - finally! Over a year on! *hides in shame* 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the rest! Thanks again to my beta J, and to my wonderful artist nusseis, please go and give her and her beautiful artwork [here](http://nusseis.livejournal.com/4410.html) all the love!!!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, reviews really appreciated!

_**Spring** _

By the time Spring came, they had reclaimed Skaedel, the war had been fought and won, and they were slowly beginning to rebuild the city.

Merlin, however, was nowhere to be found.

Gwen had watched Arthur go from panicked, to angry, to desperate, and then simply stopping. She noticed however, how he sometimes stared out the window, how he sometimes wouldn't speak and just sit in deep thought. She knew what he was thinking, they were all thinking it.

They could have saved him. They could have done  _ something _ . Here they were, the once and future king, his queen, the Knights of Camelot … and yet Gwen had never felt so helpless. 

It was no longer a fight against magic – as it had been, long ago – it was now a fight against Morgana. To free Merlin from whatever imprisonment she had him in, and then for them to go about fulfilling their destiny.

No one mentioned the fact Merlin could be dead. No one talked about it, Gwen didn't even want to think about it. They couldn't all have come so far, just to lose Merlin. It couldn't be like that.

Uther was visiting, his cold, haughty demeanour filling the house and Gwen felt chilled by his presence even though he was in the other room with Arthur. They were arguing. They had been for a while.

“But father, don't you understand? We have a duty to the people, now more so than ever. It is not good enough to simply win the war, we need to rebuild the land, help the people to regain their livelihoods!”

“We have neither the resources nor the time to fulfil all the demands of the people. They must wait. Greater things are at stake here as you and I both know.”

“What does it matter?” There was a thump and Gwen presumed Arthur must have hit something. “If I am Arthur of Camelot, if you are  _ the _ Uther Pendragon? How does it change anything? It doesn't matter what our past selves were like, the important thing is doing what is right  _ now _ .”

“A moment ago you were saying that our past effects our call of duty. Surely the return of the once and future king means a great future for you, a future which we must build now.”

“Which begins in rebuilding the lives of the people,” Arthur retorted angrily. “I don't want to come and be a master to the people, I want to come and be their friend.”

“We both know that that can never be, you cannot be king and companion to the people.”

“Well, there's the proof, you haven't changed father, from the last life to this one. You don't understand the basic principles of being a good leader, and you never will.”

The door to the other room slammed open and Arthur stormed out, Gwen got to her feet, hastening to calm him but he moved passed her and left the house.

Uther came out of the room, glowering at Gwen and giving her a curt nod before also leaving. Gwen heard the purr of his car as he drove off down the road then she quickly left the house, cutting round to the back and out into the garden.

It was now even more overgrown than it had been the previous spring. Knee-high grass caught at the hem of her skirt and branches of bushes hung across the path so she had to force her way through, the leaves and thorns snagging at her arms and clothes. Beyond the thicker shrubbery, the grass was shorter and the Spring flowers in full bloom. Arthur stood under the apple tree, his shoulders hunched and he was running a hand roughly through his hair.

“We'll find him,” Gwen said, and he turned, his eyes stained with tears.

“Father wants to call off all searches for Merlin, wants to take funding away from the rebuild and put it into building new weaponry,” Arthur stamped bitterly on the ground. “He just won't see sense.”

“He doesn't understand that the world is changing,” Gwen said, coming to Arthur's side and placing her hands on his shoulders, rubbing gently to ease the strain and tension.

“Oh no,” Arthur said, “he's knows the world is changing, he's just doing everything he can to prevent it.”

Arthur's frustration was beginning to fade and his body fell slack, leaning into Gwen's touch.

“We should go to the people,” Gwen said, “provide all the aid we can give, show them we care.”

Arthur nodded and pulled her in for a kiss. It was soft and sweet and the memory of it lingered on Gwen's lips as she met Arthur's eyes.

“I love you, you know?” he said.

“I love you too,” she responded, smiling and laughing as he took her up in his arms and span her round. The garden swirled together in a blend of colour, the red poppies dancing with them amongst the pinks and greens of Spring.

*** * ***

He didn't want to fail them again. That was the one thing he couldn't bear. After waiting for so long, living so many lives, failing time and time again … he had to get it right this time.

And that began here, with Morgana.

He hadn't tried to fight her – he'd let her win. Because he needed to talk to her, to make her understand. Yet, at the same time, he couldn't let other people get hurt. What with her ceaseless vendetta against Arthur and the others, he couldn't guarantee they wouldn't be harmed.

He'd do anything to prevent that.

Even this.

Morgana stepped away from him, her eyes alight with the golden fire and Merlin fell slack against the chains, his chest heaving as he tried to regain control of his breathing. He'd placed a shield around himself so that Morgana's magic did nothing but leave him breathless. His will was rapidly fading, however, and the longer Morgana pushed against his defences, the more they weakened.

It was a pain-free form of torture, a battle of wills and the knowledge that eventually he would have to give in. His magic hadn't been put to the test like this in many many years, he was old, frail, the centuries of a changing world having hammered down on him until he'd almost forgotten who he really was.

But now Arthur was back, the real Arthur this time, not just a shadow, now Arthur was back and he had something to fight for.

He had to stop Morgana. But more than that, this time, he had to save her.

Morgana was looking at him intently, as she did every time. Assessing him, determining if she'd broken through his defences or not. After a while, she turned away, sighing as she did so.

“It doesn't have to be like this, you know,” she said.

Finding his footing on the floor, his wrists in chains above his head, Merlin frowned weakly.

“Strange, I believe I said something similar to you once,” he murmured.

“That was a long time ago, things have changed.”

“Some things never do.”

She turned to look back at him, studying him intently.

“Don't you realise?” She asked, “this time _is_ different. I know about your magic, we can work together this time, rule the world.”

Merlin let out a huff of laughter. “Haven't you worked it out yet? I don't want to rule.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Still content to be the loyal servant? Worthless? Nameless? A nobody?”

“I'd hardly say I'm a nobody,” Merlin replied, wrinkling his nose in a fake show of carelessness. “Merlin and King Arthur – I'm quite famous.”

Morgana laughed spitefully. “Yes, as an old man, a myth. Wasting away in time waiting for his precious king to return.”

“And now he has,” Merlin pointed out, gritting his teeth because it had been _so long_. 

“At what cost, Merlin? How much have you suffered because of him? How much has destiny taken from you?” She stepped closer, a mocking gleam in her eyes.

“I never did it because it was my destiny,” he snapped. “I did it for Arthur, for Albion. Not for myself. I believed in him then and still do now. If you think for one second that after all this time I would give that up, then you are sorely mistaken.”

Her smile faded and her gaze hardened once more.

“Well then, if you won't choose to help me willingly, I'll just have to take what I want for myself.”

Merlin raised his shields with a flash of golden eyes just as Morgana raised her hand. She was smiling though, a cold, merciless smile because she knew that soon, she would win.

* * *

Skaedel was a changed city. Spring had arrived in full force and everywhere Gwen looked, she saw flowers and sunlight. It was hard to imagine this as the city from which they had run, burning and collapsing under the blade of war.

A short way down the road, Arthur, Lancelot and Percival were discussing a building's reconstruction with it's owner and Leon and Elyan were helping the woman in the next house along fix her fence and Gwaine was wooing a young girl on the street corner. Gwen bit her lower lip in a fond smile. Some things never changed.

After Cenred and Agravaine had both been killed, the attacking forces in the war had lost their momentum. Agravaine had been in a high position in government and with him no longer supplying information to Morgana's forces the defenders had been able to fight back. That, and the fact Morgana herself had disappeared.

“What are you thinking about?” Arthur murmured in her ear.

Gwen jumped, not realising her had come over and turned to look up at him.

“Morgana,” she sighed.

Arthur's lips tightened and he looked grim.

“I look around here,” he said, gesturing to the street, “and think about how we shouldn't even be here. The information Cenred got out of me …” He faltered and Gwen took his hand, squeezing reassuringly. “That was enough for them to destroy us. And yet … they didn't. _She_ didn't. Morgana hasn't done anything.”

“You think she's still planning something?” Gwen asked.

Arthur gave a huff of laughter. “When is she not?”

They fell quiet, watching contentedly as the woman thanked both Leon and Elyan profusely for the fence.

“We have to hold on to this,” Gwen said, leaning against Arthur. “What we have now. If, later, everything goes wrong … remember we had this now.”

* * *

“I've been playing a little game,” Morgana announced as she came into Merlin's cell that evening. There had been a respite from the torture and Morgana had let Merlin down from his chains. Part of him had debated escaping. It would be all too easy but … He couldn't. This time, he had to get it right. He had to make up for what went wrong last time and make things work. Over a thousand years wandering the earth and the one thing that never faded – regret.

He looked up at her when she walked in and wondered, briefly, why she hadn't put up more defences against his leaving.

He blinked at her and waited for her to continue.

“To see what your plan is. And to be honest, Merlin, I'm disappointed in you.”

“You expected me to escape,” he said.

“I had presumed at least some attempt would be made,” Morgana replied, tilting her head on one side to consider him.

“You presumed you would foil an attempt?” Merlin quirked an eyebrow, realising she might have put up defences against his escape after all, and wondered what they were.

Morgana smirked. “Had you gone beyond the door, well, lets say it wouldn't have been pretty.”

Merlin cast out his magic, sending questioning tendrils out into the corridor beyond. What met him was a sheer wall dark magic, writhing in an unshaped mass, reaching out to grab his magic and reel it in. He jerked back, shaking from the presence of so much evil. He was surprised he hadn't sensed it before now.

Morgana was smiling. “Leave this room,” she said, “and all your magic will be mine.”

Merlin didn't doubt her statement. He closed his eyes and tried to fight off the residual touch of the dark magic.

“Then I'll simply wait here,” he replied. “I've got used to that,” he added, “waiting.”

“I hope your guilt haunted you through the centuries,” Morgana said, and Merlin opened his eyes, the cold dead weight of thousands of years alone crashing down on him from where he fought so hard to keep it at bay.

“Of course it did,” he said wearily.

His response seemed to catch Morgana off guard, and for a moment Merlin believed he might have almost seen something like pity in the priestess' gaze.

“I got it wrong,” he said, speaking before she could, saying what needed to be said because above all, he needed her to _understand_. “Back then, I got everything wrong. I failed in whatever I was meant to do.”

“Clearly,” Morgana responded, raising an eyebrow critically.

“I can't get it wrong again.”

“And what makes you think that your way is the right way?” Morgana retorted. “You've said yourself, you got it wrong – what if this great destiny you told yourself about isn't right? Look how much suffering it's brought you! How much suffering it's bringing now!”

Merlin swallowed. It was the same question he'd asked himself more than once over the years.

“You think you're the first to say that to me?” he asked quietly.

Morgana looked eagerly. “Exactly! Surely time must have proved to you, there are better things for you to do. Better ways for you to use your powers!”

“My powers aren't meant for that,” Merlin replied.

“How do you know?!”

“I just do!” The answer tore itself from Merlin's throat in a yell and both he and Morgana were stunned into silence.

“You _just do_?” Morgana snorted.

With that, any fragile hope Merlin had had, that he might be able to persuade Morgana, vanished.

“Yes.” His voice was deeper now, and Morgana reacted, any flicker of uncertainty in her gaze dying.

“You're deluded,” she sneered.

“No, Morgana, that is you.” His voice dropped another octave and inside himself, he felt the dragon stir. “Do you even remember the person you were in this life before your memories came back? What was the old Morgana like before you became filled with bitterness? Was she kind, and caring, but still fierce and loyal? Was she like the Morgana I used to know before I let her down?”

“You're asking _me_ to change?!” Morgana voice was a shriek, anger in her eyes and magic sparking at her fingertips. “You're the one who let me down, you're the reason I was left alone, and afraid. Why should I have to beg for forgiveness when this is all your fault? I will show you, _Merlin_ , the pain you have caused me. I will take everything you love, everything you hold dear, Arthur, Guinevere, your precious knights and turn them to dust and then, maybe you will understand what it is to truly be alone!”

Her magic lashed out and she pushed Merlin back up against the wall. Merlin was prepared, however, and he pushed back, dropping to the floor as her magic relinquished and raising his shields as Morgana rained her magic down on him.

It was like sitting under a waterfall, nothing but a glass dome above his head, rapidly cracking and wearing thin.

He drew away, delving deep inside himself to where his magic coiled and raged around his heart. Hating himself for doing it, he pushed back at Morgana's magic and throwing her bodily across the room.

He hadn't wanted to hurt her with his magic, he'd wanted to show her that he didn't want to fight any more, that he wanted to make peace. But now, somewhere deep inside himself, he knew she was too far gone, that he had no choice. The magic at his core had acted with him thinking. The power of the world which had used to dance at his fingertips and over the years he'd buried deep away because his magic was meant for Arthur … and he'd lost Arthur.

He got to his feet, pacing across the cell and stopping when Morgana rolled over, he eyes flashing.

He blocked her magic with a simple wave of his hand.

“Go on then,” she hissed. “Do it. Just like last time.”

Slowly, Merlin shook his head.

“You're a coward, Emrys!” Morgana scrambled back away from him. “Never prepared to accept responsibility for the mess you've made. I thought I could change you, prove to you that you did wrong and that we could work together to --”

“Can't you see that's what _I've_ been trying to say to you all along?”

Morgana tilted her chin up. “Then, obviously, one of us will have to fail.”

Merlin set his jaw and drew back, his magic reaching out and cutting a tunnel through the black magic beyond the door.

“You should understand,” he said, “I do know what it means to be alone. I've been alone for so long that I've pushed my magic away, pushed the world away. So, Morgana, you may have won, you could have done it – defeated me. But, you made one mistake. You see, I've just got it all back, my friends, the people I care about and if there's one thing you should never have done, it was threaten them.”

Morgana narrowed her eyes. “I will make good on my threat,” she snapped.

“And I will die before you do,” Merlin responded, his voice hoarse.

With that, he turned and left, casting aside Morgana's dark magic with a flick of his hand.

His magic burned and roared through him because he had finally realised everything that had come back to him, and how he couldn't let it go again.

*** * ***

_And I will hear, though soft you tread above me,_

_And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be …_

Arthur sat up in bed in the dead of night, something having wakened him.

Beside him, Gwen stirred and blinked her eyes open.

“Arthur?” she murmured, muddled by sleep.

“I thought …” Arthur looked around the room, a frown creasing his brow. “I thought I heard him.”

“Who?” Gwen was more alert now, pushing herself up in bed and reaching for a light.

“ _Arthur_.”

“There!” Arthur jumped out of the bed, reaching for a sword her no longer owned and spinning around wildly for the source of the voice.

“ _Arthur, I'm sorry I had to leave you. I didn't want to._ ”

“He's in my head!” Arthur shouted out, half annoyed that Merlin would such a thing, half falling over in relief to hear him alive.

“ _Just as slow as you used to be_ ,” Merlin quipped and Arthur could almost see the smile on his face. This was Merlin, their Merlin, alive and … _whole_.

“Where are you?” Arthur asked, presuming that Merlin could hear him. “What's happened with Morgana?

The was a pause and when Merlin spoke this time with voice was grave. “ _I'm on my way._ ”

“Arthur. Arthur! What's going on?” Gwen had got out of bed and touched Arthur's arm gently.

“He's alive, Gwen, he's alive. And it's all going to be ok!”

Arthur knew he had dismissed the cold touch to Merlin's tone, knew that everything was very far from ok, but, for now, Merlin was coming back to them.

When Merlin spoke this time, Arthur saw Gwen flinch and knew he was speaking to both of them.

“ _I'm sorry, Arthur, but it's really not. And … it's all my fault_.” 

Arthur let his head drop and set his jaw. “Just get here,  _Mer_ lin. Then we'll talk.” 

“ _Of course, sire._ ”

Arthur scowled, because Merlin's tone had been entirely genuine and there was none of his usual cheek on the word 'sire'. And there was an ache in his chest because he missed Merlin, the old Merlin who he could always rely on to make light of a situation, to convince Arthur it would all be ok. 

Faintly, a whisper, almost silent, he heard Merlin reply.

“ _I miss him too._ ” 

*** * ***

Uther was visiting again and this time, Gwen had had to leave the house to escape the dark cloud following him. Apparently the rebels were fighting back again – no doubt something to do with whatever had happened between Merlin and Morgana – and for some reason it was Arthur's fault.

Gwen would be in there, defending Arthur's corner, tossing every single one of Uther's poisonous words back in his face, but Uther had said something about 'secret strategies' and whilst Arthur had insisted Gwen should stay, Uther refused to speak until Gwen left.

The more she thought about her memories from their past lives, the more she wanted nothing to do with Uther. But, she had to act quiet and calm. For Arthur's sake if nothing else.

Out in the street, she shivered remembering Merlin's words from the night before. The sky was clouded over and somehow whispers of Winter still seemed to cling in the air even though they were now nearing Summer. Gwen tugged her cardigan around her and started walking.

Even though they had done their best in the rebuild of Skaedel, much of the city still remained in ruin. Houses were burnt out shells, the town hall was a tumbled wreck. Dust still seemed to hang in the air.

She reached an abandoned street, weeds growing through the cracks in the paving stones, windows shattered, rubble scattered across the street.

Why had they ever left this place? Why had they ever left their home? Their people?

She knew why Arthur had been so quick to hope that Merlin's return meant everything was going to be ok again. It was because they'd let down their people. They'd failed the night they had left Skaedel and part of Arthur still told himself he didn't deserve to lead them any more.

“I guess this was my fault too.”

Gwen whirled around, her eyes going wide to see Merlin standing behind her in the street.

She took a step towards him then halted, her gaze going over him and her heart going out to him.

He was thin, ragged, haggard. Dark circles ringed his eyes and his cheeks were sunken. He looked hollow.

“Merlin, you're alive,” she said, hesitating because she didn't know if he wanted her to come closer.

“I guess I am,” he responded with a shrug and a small smile.

Gwen crossed the distance between them and pulled him into a hug. For a moment, Merlin didn't react and Gwen feared she'd crossed some sort of invisible barrier, but then he relaxed, exhaling into Gwen's shoulder.

“Where have you been?” Gwen said, half angry, half relieved. “We've all been so worried.”

She pulled back. “But are you ok? What happened? And Morgana?” Gwen knew she was battering Merlin with questions, but her concern for Merlin was rushing out of her in waves.

Merlin bit his lip and then slowly shook his head. His gaze moved away from Gwen's and his shoulders rose and fell in a shrug.

“I messed up, Gwen. I got it all wrong.”

“No …” Gwen placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder. “Merlin, I'm sure it's not like that --”

“This. Morgana. Everything. I mucked it all up. And I can't … I can't just make it better with a wave of my hand …” He choked back his words. Lifting his hand, his eyes glowed gold.

Gwen watched, mouth open as up above them, the clouds rolled back and the sun poured through. Everything it touched was brought to life. Tumble-down buildings rebuilt themselves, glass flew back to empty windows, the air cleared, cracked paving stones mended, flowers grew.

Merlin had tears pouring down his face.

“Merlin … Merlin,” Gwen raised her hand to cup his chin, and tilted his head so his gaze met hers. The gold faded from his irises and the illusion dropped, buildings falling into decay once more and clouds veiling the sun once more.

It began to rain.

“How could this possibly have been your fault Merlin?” Gwen said. “This was Morgana. Morgana and her war. You can't blame yourself for what happened here.”

Merlin pressed his lips together and didn't answer.

Gwen pushed him lightly in the chest. “This. Wasn't. Your. Fault.” She insisted. “None of it, not now, not then.”

There was a silence. Merlin looked skyward, the rain pelting down on his face.

“I still see it,” he said. “Every time I close my eyes. White towers. Smoke from the lower town. Snow in the streets in Winter. Daffodils in Spring. Opening the door to Gaius' chambers and seeing a thousand different potions and pots and herbs. The round table. Arthur being crowned King …”

He couldn't finish the sentence, his tears blurring his words and mixing with the rain hitting his face.

Looking up also, for the briefest of moments, Gwen saw a shimmering castle hanging suspended in the raindrops.

She took Merlin's hand.

“Come on,”she said quietly. “It's time to go home.”

*** * ***

They reached the house in time to see a car drive off and Merlin saw Uther in the passenger seat, his expression grim.

On the other side of the fence, Arthur was stood just inside the doorway to the house, his eyes shut, his hand balled into a fist.

“Arthur!” Gwen called out to him as they reached the path and Arthur looking up, his face collapsing in relief when he saw Merlin.

Something twisted in Merlin's gut. He didn't think he really deserved Arthur's sympathy or concern. But he kept his thoughts to himself.

“I see you managed to keep yourself alive,” he said, a wry smile creeping onto his face.

Arthur nodded, his gaze raking Merlin up and down. “You too,” he responded, his tone guarded.

There was an awkward silence.

“Well … are you just going to make us stand in the rain?” Merlin asked, half-joking.

Arthur's expression softened.

“Get inside you idiot,” he said, without heat.

“Prat,” Merlin quipped in response.

Arthur snorted and moved aside to let them in.

“It's good to see you, Merlin,” he said and Merlin dipped his head in response.

“You too.”

* * *

 

_**Summer** _

_For you will bend, and tell me that you love me …_

**Two months later …**

“Merlin, I need your help.” Merlin raised an eyebrow at Gwaine. His gaze moved behind Gwaine to where a pretty woman was standing at the corner. He laughed.

“Really Gwaine, you're coming to me for dating advice?”

“I'm sure you've got some tricks up your sleeve from over the years,” Gwaine responded, wriggling his eyebrows until Merlin thumped him on the arm. “But no, that's not why. I need a flower.”

Merlin's eyebrow shot higher.

“Quit it, you look like Gaius. Just, you know, use magic.”

“I am not a florist,” Merlin replied, folding his arms across his chest.

“Could've fooled me, Merlin. Could've fooled me.” With a chuckle Gwaine slung his arm around Merlin's shoulder.

“But seriously, Merlin. Help a friend out?”

With a shake of his head, Merlin lifted a hand to his mouth and breathed his magic into his palm.

A small red rose blossomed.

“Merlin, you're a life saver.”

“Go win your fair maiden's heart,” Merlin said, handing the rose over with a roll of his eyes.

Gwaine swaggered off to where the woman, blushing furiously, was standing.

“Poor woman.” Merlin turned to find Arthur, scowling slightly with his arms folded, stood a little way behind him.

Merlin laughed a little.

“You're better,” Arthur said hesitantly.

Merlin bowed his head. “I will be,” he shrugged.

It had been several weeks since he escaped Morgana's lair and the days had been … difficult. Merlin was caught between the inevitable cycle of wanting to move on, but not being able to.

They'd talked a lot. About what Morgana had done, what she might be going to do, about why she wasn't attacking yet. The waiting. That was what was worst.

After years – hundreds of years – of waiting it seemed ridiculous that just a few weeks would put him so on edge. But now, back with his friends and the people he cared most about, now it was different.

And he still hadn't found the courage to tell them that it was because of him that they were all back here in the first place.

“How are the defences coming along?” Arthur's voice jolted him from his daze and he turned to face the end of the street where they were standing. It was on the far edge of town, open country lying beyond and between a pair of oak trees, Merlin had been casting spells – building defences of a different kind to the defences Arthur was creating in the centre of town. A great barricade,not unlike those of revolutionary France – Merlin should know, he'd _bee_ n there – stretched across the town square to hold back attackers from the north which is where they guessed Morgana's forces would be arriving … if they ever did.

“Fine,” he replied with a shrug. “It'll hold back long-distance magical attacks and at the very least it'll provide a warning when they arrive.”

“It's very strange,” Arthur said, after a pause. “Seeing you use magic.”

Merlin chuckled. “I'm surprised you never did before. There were so many times …”

Arthur did his best to scowl but Merlin could see he was smiling.

“Looking back it seems obvious,” he replied.

“Hindsight is … a powerful thing,” Merlin said, his lips thinning.

Arthur bit his lip. “If you could … knowing what you do now … would you go back and change what happened?”

Merlin gave a hollow laugh. “I may be the most powerful sorcerer in the world, Arthur … and you may have always called be an idiot … but I'm not enough of a fool to meddle with time.”

“But just if--”

“ _If_? If what Arthur? If I could change what happen. If I could _not_ mess it all up? If I could save you, save Albion, save myself …” Merlin took a breath. “I made my mistakes back then and what happened, happened. I've had to learn to live with that.”

Arthur looked taken aback for a moment, then he seemed to collect himself. Raised himself up like the king he was, and gave Merlin a piercing look.

“We'll get it right this time. _Together_.”

Merlin pressed his lips together and gave a slow nod.

There was a pause.

“I feel this is the moment when you make some witty, meaningless but ever so slightly thought-provoking comment, just, you know, as far as I remember.” Arthur quirked a grin.

It brought a smile to Merlin's face. “Did you just call me witty?”

*** * ***

They came at night. Barely a warning, barely a sound. Only Merlin's alarmed shout as they passed through his spell, and a scramble for weapons. Not an army. No. And oh, Arthur should have realised by now that Morgana needed no army to wreak the devastation she desired. She stood in the town square, shrouded in black and shadow, only Mordred at her side.

“I was wondering when he'd turn up,” Merlin said grimly.

They were stationed behind the barricade and Arthur kept his gaze steady on Morgana. She stared right back.

“Has rebirth made you a coward, Arthur Pendragon?” she called out. “Come now, you were never one to cower behind a shield.”

“What do you want, Morgana?” Arthur called back, his voice steady – the Arthur of old surging through.

“What is rightfully mine,” Morgana replied, tilting her chin up.

“There's no throne, this time, Morgana. No crown.”

“A fact you should do well to remind yourself,” she spat back.

“I don't seek victory, Morgana. I don't seek power. I just want peace.”

Morgana snorted but did not respond. There was dead silence, the tension palpable in the air.

“Merlin … what's she doing?” Arthur turned to Merlin who was watching the pair in the square below intently.

“They're going to use ma--”

His word were cut off as a fire ball flew through the air and collided with the barricade.

Arthur lost his footing as flames licked up the wood and the structure crumbled beneath him.

He was falling …

*** * ***

Gwen was further down the barricade, away from Arthur and Merlin. She hadn't dared take her eyes off Morgana during her exchange with Arthur.

She had only a moment's warning when the fireball flew through the air and the night erupted in flames.

She, Percival and Elyan were away from the worst of it. But the searing heat still washed over them in a deadly wave and the barricade below them creaked ominously.

Arthur.

She looked left, shielding a face with a hand when the smoke blew in her eyes. She took hesitant steps forward, clambering over what looked like a table and an old wardrobe.

“Gwen! Stay here! It's not safe!”

Elyan reached out to her, beckoning her back.

“We have to get to them!” Gwen shouted.

“It's not safe!”

As if to prove his point, the barricade behind Elyan at that point crumbled away. Percival slipped as the wooden support gave way beneath him and Elyan spun, throwing out a hand to catch Percival as he fell. Percival was too heavy for him however, and with a yell, Elyan was dragged over the edge.

“Elyan!”

Gwen froze in panic. The fire swelling and crackling behind her, the shouts of the towns people who had come to help fight, mingling and she couldn't think straight. The smoke rolled over and she couldn't see clearly enough to work out what had happened to Elyan or Percival.

Another explosion rocked the night, and another. The wardrobe beneath her tilted alarmingly.

She was going to fall.

Scrabbling madly for a foothold, handhold, _anything_ ,the wardrobe tilted once more and she slid off, crashing down into the smoke and flames below.

*** * ***

Merlin had been too busy watching Morgana. Worrying over the priestess and not over Mordred – and surely time should have taught him the error in that – and he'd only had a bare glimmer of a warning, the feeling of a swift, pulsing build of magic before Morgana and Mordred unleashed their power.

He barely managed to stay standing, and it was only through a lightning fast use of his magic that he was able to stop the barricade tumbling to the ground beneath him. He watched in horror as Arthur fell over the far side and disappeared in the smoke and confusion of the fire.

“Merlin! Are you alright?” It was Gwaine, behind him, a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Leon had fallen in the explosion and Lancelot was scrambling down the side of the barricade, trying to reach his friend.

“I need to get to Arthur!” Merlin shouted, waving his hand to clear the smoke, his heart leaping when he saw Arthur below them, trying to crawl out of the wreckage.

“I'll help Leon, then go check on Gwen and the others. But Merlin, be careful, Morgana's still out there.”

Merlin clasped Gwaine's hand briefly and then watched him leap over the barricade, subtly strengthening the structure below him as his friend climbed.

Arthur.

He swung himself over the side of the barrier and began to climb down. The flames swirled higher but he beat them back with a wave of his hand. Smoke caught in his throat and he coughed harshly, his eyes smarting.

“Merlin! Don't be an idiot, you'll fall!” That was Arthur, dragging himself away from the flames. He'd lost his gun and as Merlin – completely disregarding his warning – continued to climb down, Arthur came across a chair leg.

“Not quite Excalibur,” he snorted once Merlin had dropped to the ground beside him, but he gave it a twirl anyway.

“Where do you think they are?” he asked, quieter now, his body taking a defensive crouch. Merlin let his magic bubble to the surface.

“I don't know,” he responded grimly.

“Let us help.” The smoke cleared away in a flash and both Morgana and Mordred appeared in front of them, their hands raised, magic swirling in the air.

A second fireball flew close to them and Merlin _almost_ had time to raise shields, before another was thrown at them and he was blasted backwards of his feet, everything exploding into pain and flames.

*** * ***

Arthur was simply knocked aside as the second fireball flew at them and he briefly wondered whether it had been Merlin or someone else who had saved him from the blast. He was broken from his thought however as Mordred's blade swung down at him from above. He barely raised the chair leg in time to parry the blow.

Morgana had disappeared into the flames, no doubt pursuing Merlin to attack him.

Arthur scrambled backwards, blocking Mordred's blows as he went. Rubble, stone and wood dug into his back, tearing his clothes. The smoke stung his eyes.

It was only a matter of time before Mordred landed a heavy blow and the chair leg splintered in half beneath his blade.

Arthur tossed it aside and in a fit of recklessness, dived forward, catching Mordred round his waist and bringing him to the ground.

A solid force hit him in the chest – his brain registering enough to think ' _magic_ ' – and he was thrown backwards, landing hard all the breath driven from his lungs.

Mordred picked himself up and crossed the space between them, laying his blade against Arthur's neck. Arthur sank back, a cold feeling of dread rising up in his stomach and a small, snide voice in the back of his head going, “ _Well, here we go again_.”

“I'm getting the strangest sense of deja vu,” Arthur said, trying his best to keep his voice steady.

“Isn't that what our lives have become?” Mordred sneered, “just one big replay for the sake of destiny?”

“I liked to think I was making my own choices,” Arthur replied, aware of how Mordred's sword was pressing against his throat hard enough to break the skin. A trickle of blood ran down his neck. “Not just playing destiny's game.”

“Always wanting to be the king, the one in charge, having your pawns run around the board.” Mordred spat in his face. “Well what now _sire_? When your knights cannot match our strength, when your pawns fail and your castle stands in ruin?”

Arthur's head thudded against the unforgiving stone beneath him and he dared barely even breathe. Mordred sank to one knee, adjusting his grip on his sword, ready to drive it through Arthur's throat.

“ _Checkmate_.” He smirked.

“I think not.”

Mordred spun around to be confronted with a chair leg wielding Guinevere. Her face was a mask of fury but her eyes were bright with determination. Before Mordred had a chance to react, she smacked him round the head with the chair leg and he crumpled to the ground.

Arthur let out a breath, his head flopping back onto the ground once more.

“I feel offended,” Gwen said. “He didn't even mention the Queen.”

Arthur sat up, raising an eyebrow.

“Everyone knows the queen is the most important piece in chess.” She was trying to sound light-hearted, but Arthur heard the tremble in her voice. He got to his feet and pulled her into a hug.

“I couldn't let him do it,” she said into the curve of Arthur's neck. “Not this time. _Not this time_.”

“It's alright,” Arthur murmured. “I'm here.” He held her tightly for a moment longer. “ _Thank you_.”

*** * ***

Gwen pulled herself together once more, stilling her shaking hands and briefly tightening her hold on Arthur. He was still there, still alive. Mordred hadn't killed him. Maybe this time was different.

She had stumbled from the wreckage of the barricade, a gash across her arm and her hair a tangled mess across her face. It hadn't taken her long to spot Arthur locked in combat with Mordred and she'd watched him fall, time almost slowing to a stop. Then she'd advanced, determined to do everything she could not to lose Arthur again. She hadn't been able to help last time. This time was different.

Maybe they might even get out of this alive?

A triumphant shout startled them from their embrace and they turned to see Morgana striding from the wreckage, dragging a limp figure with her.

“ _Merlin_ \--”

“He's dead, Arthur! Dead! Don't you see? He's not going to save you this time just like he couldn't last time!”

“No ...”

Morgana looked insane. Her hair was tangled and her eyes gleaming with bright excitement.

“NO!” Arthur was running. Morgana stopped him with nothing but a flick of her hand. Arthur struggled but it was like his feet were glued to the stone.

“He's gone, Arthur. It's over.” Morgana's voice was softer now and she stepped nearer to Arthur.

“He can't be dead. He's immortal.” Arthur's voice was harsh but there was no denying the plea in his tone. Arthur so desperately wanted to believe that what he said was true.

“It would seem not anymore.”

Arthur's face crumpled. “He can't--”

“Face it, Arthur. You've lost. Now bow to me, and I might be lenient.” Morgana's smirk was icy.

“You really think--”

Morgana's eyes flashed and Arthur was slammed to his knees.

“So be it.”

Arthur's body went rigid and Gwen watched with horror as he furiously tried to fight the magic vice over him.

“What are you doing?” she growled, fixing her gaze on Morgana.

Morgana laughed. “Oh, I think this is just a permanent reminder of what happens to those who cross me.”

Her eyes glowed gold and words form the Old Religion rolled off her tongue.

“ _F_ _læsc_ _abugan stan_.”

“Stop it! Stop this, Morgana, have a little mercy!”

“Gwen …” Arthur's voice was a quiet warning.

Morgana's eyes darkened.

“Mercy? _Mercy_? Why? Why should I show you mercy when not one soul showed me _mercy_ before? Help you when no one helped me before?”

“It doesn't have to be like that this time!” Gwen pressed on, stepping nearer to Morgana till she was level with Arthur. “Maybe that's why we're all back? So we can get it right!”

It was Arthur's gentle fingers on her wrist that brought her to silence.

“Gwen.” His voice was hoarse and when Gwen looked down, her eyes went wide. Where his boots and clothes touched the cobbles of the square, the material had turned grey and, dropping to one knee, Gwen ran her fingers over it. It was hard and cold. Like stone …

“No. No. No you can't--”

Arthur squeezed a little tighter round her wrist. “It's ok, Gwen. It doesn't hurt.”

“This is what you'll become, Arthur Pendragon,” Morgana said. “Nothing but a statue. A reminder of the price you paid and how in the end, it was all for nothing.”

She was turning him to stone.

Gwen's breath caught in her throat. “No …”

“I'll let you live, Guinevere. You can live this life out much like the last. Alone.”

Morgana's smile was twisted and gleeful. Gwen felt sick. She turned her head away, pain lashing at her throat as she fought back tears and then, because she was Guinevere, Queen Guinevere of Camelot and she didn't simply just _give up_ , she swallowed and met Morgana's eyes once more.

“What now, then, Morgana?”

Morgana's eyes narrowed a little. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Gwen shrugged, “you've won. Congratulations.” Her voice was hollow. “What do you plan to do?”

“I don't see how that concerns you,” Morgana replied.

Gwen shrugged. “Maybe it does. You see, I'm interested. There's no Camelot now. No crown to wear on your head. The people will not follow you. You've defeated us, but what has that gained you, Morgana?”

Morgana titled her chin up. “Everything I ever wanted,” she hissed.

Gwen swept her arms out. “Which is what, Morgana? Take a look around. What do you have?”

She waited, watching as Morgana's eyes darted left, then right.

“Nothing.” Gwen continued, gentler now. “You're alone.”

Morgana was dead still. Then, she threw out a hand and Gwen was knocked off her feet, her back hitting the ground hard. Another spell and Mordred's sword flew to Morgana's hand and she levelled it at Gwen's throat.

“Go on then,” Gwen choked out, “do it. Do it and ruin any last chance you have of getting back the life you had. The friends you had. Do it and ruin any chance of peace. Because believe it or not, Morgana, we're ready to forgive you, ready to welcome you back and you know the best bit? We forgave you long ago …” She hesitated. “We never wanted to lose you in the first place.”

Morgana's face twisted and she stepped away.

“Liar.”

Gwen sighed, dropping back onto the ground and looking away from Morgana.

Silence settled over the square. Morgana was looking around, something seeming to fall into place behind her eyes, and even as Gwen watched, she seemed to sag. The sword in her hand dropped to her side and she pressed her lips tightly together. The picture of sheer destruction and misery that presented Gwen in that moment, made tears prick her eyes. It was all over.

And then, Merlin moved.

*** * ***

The sensation of his body slowly being turned to stone was one Arthur couldn't bring himself to think about and as his lower legs went numb, a coldness seeming to spread up his body, his kept his eyes determinedly forward.

“ _Death? Death is meaningless, Arthur.”_

“ _I don't understand, father.”_

_Uther sighed, shaking his head. “I wouldn't expect you to, you're far too young.”_

_It was late in the evening, Uther was sat in his chair by the fire, Arthur at his feet. Arthur was staring into the flames, his imagination playing tricks on him as he saw dragons and knights and castles swirl and dance in their depths._

“ _But I will tell you this,” Uther took a sip of his whiskey, his gaze unfocused. “You should never be afraid of death. No, a true soldier, a true leader is not remembered for how they died, but for how they faced death bravely.”_

“ _I don't know if I could be that brave if I was dying,” Arthur said quietly._

“ _One day,” Uther said gravely, his voice slurring a little and his whiskey tumbler falling, empty, form his grasp. “You will have no choice.”_

He wasn't sure if he could be brave now. Because, over the years, if there was one thing he had learned it was that his father believed leaders and rulers to be above the people. That they spent their time in charge and then moved on, the future not of their concern.

But Arthur had discovered something in himself, something different. He had found he cared, deeply and passionately for the people around him, his people, the people of Skaedel, his friends and family. And now, when all hope was lost, he wasn't afraid of dying, he was afraid for them. What would happen to them when he was no longer there to protect them? That had been his task, his duty, his _destiny_ … and he had failed.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, so minutely he thought he _must_ be imagining it … Merlin's fingers twitched.

He tried not to show he had noticed. Morgana was focused on Gwen and had his legs not been quite so fixed to the ground below him he would be throwing himself between them now. Gwen was speaking but her words were going fuzzy in Arthur's ears. Morgana had taken up a sword.

But Merlin had moved and suddenly it all seemed clear to Arthur in that moment.

“ _L etting her think she's won.” _That was what Merlin had said, wasn't it? They had to let her think she'd won. 

Morgana had moved away from Guinevere, her shoulders dropping, her hands shaking lightly.

Behind her, Merlin got to his feet.

“This was always bigger than just us, Morgana.”

Gwen gasped and Morgana span round, her eyes going wild.

Merlin stood tall, his arms loose at his sides, his skin pale but glowing with a strange, ethereal brightness. Gold light seemed to emanate from him and his eyes were gleaming with magical fire.

“There was always something more.”

“What do you – What do you mean?” Morgana was stumbling, the sword in her hand half-raised but her hands trembling.

“I thought … I thought we were all brought back because we had to stop  _ you _ . But I was wrong.” Merlin took a step forward. “We all got our memories back  _ after _ the war started. We were all thrown into this war because of our memories … and it's only come to me now. We're meant to do it together. We're meant to bring the war to an end  _ together _ . Because there's something out there, something worse, and we've been brought back to stop it.” 

“Who says we have to do anything together?” Morgana spat. “Why not just kill me and finish your great quest alone.”

“Because, Morgana, if we can't do this together, there's no reason to do it at all.” Merlin raised his arm, holding out his hand. Morgana shook where she stood and then took a hesitant step forward.

“What is this thing? This greater threat?” Before Arthur's eyes, he could see Morgana unravelling, the fortress of steel she had built around herself, eroding away.

Merlin glanced up at the sky. The clouds overhead tinged with faint morning light.

“Magic is … dying.” He said. His voice dropped and he shuffled where he stood. “I can feel it. The whole world is tearing and fraying at the edges. We need to put it right. This time we need to get it right.”

“It's not about this time though!” Morgana burst out.

Merlin's jaw clenched and he looked wary.

“What you did to me ...” Morgana continued. “You said you've lived all this time with regret. But back then you still thought you'd done the right thing. Do you ... Do you still think that?”

“I didn't ... I thought I didn't have a choice.” Merlin bowed his head. “But I did. And I was wrong.”

“You mean it?” Morgana's voice was sharp.

Merlin's voice was thick with emotion. “I mean it,” he said.

A small sigh escaped Morgana's lips. She lowered her head and reached out her hand to take Merlin's.

Daylight was creeping over the town square and shattered glass, from where Morgana's fireballs had blown out windows, glimmered and glittered in the sun. Almost all of Arthur's legs had turned to stone by this point and gestured weakly to gain Merlin's attention.

The war was over now, surely? They didn't need need to fight anymore.

Hadn't needed to fight in the first place.

Every one seemed to come to their senses in a simultaneous jolt and Morgana approached, looking apprehensive.

“I'll put it right,” she promised. Arthur believed her. He could hear it in her tone, the old Morgana breaking through at last.

With a few whispered words on Morgana's part, the spell fell away, warmth and feeling returning to Arthur's legs in a rush which made him topple forward before Gwen was there to catch him.

There were shouts and noises as the knights broke through the barricade. Gwaine and Lancelot supporting Percival as Elyan and Leon came behind. Elyan was limping, Leon cradling his arm, which looked broken, to his chest.

The people of Skaedel were timidly approaching the square, their faces pale – like ghosts in the morning light.

“Is it over? Is it really all over?” Gwen's voice was quite in his ear and Arthur squeezed her hand reassuringly before slowly getting to his feet.

“It's over.”

Except, it would seem he spoke too soon.

“Pendragon.”

The four of them spun around, to see Mordred approaching.

“Mordred.” Arthur found his balance, stepping away from Gwen and unsteadily making his way towards Mordred. “Put down the sword, it doesn't have to be like this.”

Somehow Mordred had woken and reclaimed his sword, which Morgana must have dropped, and he levelled it at Arthur now. Arthur simply raised his hands. “Go on then.”

Mordred glanced between the four of them, his gaze lingering on Morgana.

“We don't have to fight.”

The silence of the morning was shattered by the rumbling sounds of helicopters whirring overhead. The group looked skyward as military helicopters came into view over the roofs of the square. Arthur recognised the Pendragon insignia on their underbellies immediately and he stepped quickly back to Merlin, ignoring Mordred.

“It's my father. Merlin he'll want to kill--”

“STEP AWAY FROM MY SON.” Uther's voice boomed over the square from some loud speaker system.

Morgana's expression had gone hard. Merlin bit his lip, looking angry. Gwen came to his side.

Laser pinpoints sprang into being, their red light dancing over Merlin's chest, and over Morgana's. In anger, Arthur stepped in front of Merlin. He spread his arms out, his intention clear. _You go through me_.

“Arthur, step aside. He might hurt you. I can protect myself.”

“No, Merlin. What did I say? _We don't need to fight_.”

“Arthur--”

“No, he has to see reason!”

“No – _Arthur!”_

Merlin's exasperation turned to panic, and Arthur refocused his attention in time to see Mordred lunging for him. Someone got there first, however.

Morgana was in front of him with her arms outstretched. Mordred stopped short, his eyes wide.

“Merlin!”

Gwen's shout made Arthur spin around once again to see the laser pinpoints had once again drifted to Merlin. Faintly he thought – or maybe he imagined it? - he heard someone above them giving the order. _Fire at will_.

“NO!”

Arthur threw himself towards Merlin just as pain ripped through him.

* * *

 

_And I will sleep in peace, until you come for me._

**Many years previous …**

Autumn had come late that year, but when it did, it came in a rage of icy winds, rain and swirling leaves. Merlin stayed inside by the fire, feeling the weight of time and age wearing him down.

It had been so long.

He was tired, late in the day as it was, and his head lolled back in the armchair as he wavered in and out of consciousness. The flames flickered and danced. A castle on a hill; a sword, buried in a stone; knights who would not die; dragons in the sky, and a world at war …

So very long.

As he sat there, hung between waking and sleeping, a few tears rolled down his cheeks. It all seemed so out of reach. Nothing more than a story or a myth. Albion? Sometimes he thought he'd even forgotten what Albion meant to him anymore.

A log shifted in the fireplace and sparks shot up the chimney. Amongst the light, Merlin thought he saw something … or maybe he was dreaming it.

A hand reached out for another to take. Broken glass sparkled and blazed with light. Faces of people he'd begun to believe he'd never see again swirled in the smoke, their figures standing side by side – united.

A single flower burst up from under dust and stone, opening its petals to the sun.

Merlin's eyes drifted shut, the vision still burning behind his eyelids.

* * *

 

Arthur seemed to fall in slow motion, a hand rising to his chest where a red stain was blossoming.

No. No. Not again. He couldn't do this again. No. No. _No_.

Merlin fell with Arthur, dropping to his knees as Arthur reached out a feeble hand to steady himself. Gwen was running over the space between them. Morgana and Mordred had turned to watch in horror. The red stain on Arthur's shirt grew, spreading out from where the fabric was ripped and torn.

_No_ . 

“Arthur, Arthur … Speak to me.” Gwen was there, her face pale, her hands shaking as she drew Arthur close to her. “Come on, Arthur.”

“Hurts.” Arthur murmured as he collapsed onto his side.

“No, no, not again. Merlin – Merlin, there must be something you can do.”

Tears swum before Merlin's eyes and he shrugged helplessly. “I …”

The helicopters overhead were retreating, Uther running from what he had done. The knights were approaching, their faces shocked and broken. There was a clang as Mordred tossed his sword away.

“The druids did not speak of you so highly for no reason, Emrys. You're the most powerful warlock ever to walk the earth. Albion is destined to come. Maybe, now is the time.” Mordred gave a thin smile. “If that's the case, then I don't think anything could stand in your way.”

He turned and walked away from the square, his shoulders hunched slightly, not looking at the knights as he brushed through them.

“We can't lose him again,” Morgana said determinedly.

“It was your fault last time,” Arthur quipped half-heartedly, something resembling a chuckle escaping him.

Morgana bit her lip. “And we're going to get it right this time,” she responded.

Arthur nodded, wincing in pain as he fell against Gwen.

“We're going to get it right,” Gwen repeated firmly, taking Arthur's hand in her own.

All three looked to Merlin.

“Surely,” Gwen murmured, “there must be something.”

Merlin looked at her for a long time and then he reached out his hand. “Make it right,” he mumbled.

He placed his hand over Arthur's heart and took a breath.

“ _G iefan lif_ .”

His eyes glowed and Arthur gave a great gasping breath. Gwen's grip on his hand was knuckle-white. Morgana reached out to intercede – she knew what he'd powers he'd drawn upon, what he'd commanded of the old religion – but he held her back.

A great hush swept over the square and all sounds and lights seemed to dim for Merlin, the whole world, all of time, narrowed down to this one moment.

Bit by bit, he felt his life-force slipping away. Year upon year of immortality crumbling into dust as he poured out everything he had. Because he had to make it right this time. He  _had_ to. 

Then, with a sound like a crashing drum, the ground where he was knelt, cracked. Light spiralled up from the earth and in the centre, a flower grew and blossomed. It's petals were a bright red. Pendragon red. Somewhere, up above, the clouds parted and the shone glowed through.

He felt Gwen's hand on his cheek, bringing him back, grounding him.

“It's ok, Merlin. You did it. You did it.”

Blinking, Merlin looked down to see Arthur, pale but smiling, all traces of his wound gone.

With a gasp, he let his power recede.

“We did it,” he said. “We got it right.”

*** * ***

It was much later in the day, after Arthur had addressed the people, and Gwaine and Lancelot had helped the injured, and they had heard that Uther had stepped down from his position of power, handing the kingdom over to him son, it was only then that they were finally alone, grouped around a small fire in the town square, a little way off from where the flower bloomed from the between the crack in the stone.

Gwen leaned against, Arthur, watching the flames flickering and the sparks shooting upwards. Morgana was quiet, still unsure of how they felt. Merlin was curled on his side, looking half asleep. He'd explained what he'd done, afterwards. And for a moment, Gwen had thought that Arthur would ask him to take it back. To give Merlin back his immortality, the gift of life which he'd bestowed on Arthur. 

“ _Oh you won't live forever,” Merlin said quickly. “No … that was my destiny. But … you're alive now and don't even think of asking me to change that. You're alive. You'll live for Albion.”_

_Arthur didn't reply for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then he pulled Merlin into a rough hug. “For Albion,” he said gruffly._

The world beyond Skaedel had heard the news, and reports were coming in of a changing country … all within the space of a day.

They still had much to do. Rebuilding, mending … but for now, Gwen was content.

Morgana's eyes glowed briefly and the image of Camelot hung in the sparks from the fire. The four of them watched it, their memories mixing and intertwining. Everything they had done, and everything that was still to come …

“For the love of Camelot,” she said quietly. Morgana gave a small smile and Merlin hummed his agreement. Arthur squeezed her in a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“For the love of Camelot.”

**Fini**

 


End file.
